


Too in Love to Let it Go

by lavender_love00



Series: Lights Will Guide You Home [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:33:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 191,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavender_love00/pseuds/lavender_love00
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kurt and Blaine take a journey toward fatherhood, and through it, learn more about themselves than they could have ever dreamed.</p><p>This is a story about family. The knitting together of it, its breakings and mendings, its inner workings that piece together like a clock. It is also a story about love. How love is not the same as magic, but how love can do many things that magic can't. It is a story about life – the mundane and and the piercing pain and the utter delight and everything in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my baby. I first wrote it at the beginning of my fandom journey, posting one chapter at a time with no beta, no plan, no direction, and very little writing ability. It makes my heart swell to look how far this story of mine has come.
> 
> This version of the fic would not have been possible without the assistance of two people I have grown to love very dearly. 
> 
> My two betas - Wowbright and Judearaya - have spent countless hours pouring over this thing with me, and I am forever grateful for their time and their love and their assistance. I couldn't have started or finished without either one of them, and I've been amazed at their level of commitment to something as silly (but somehow still so important) as a work of fanfiction. I love you both so much, and thank you from the bottom of my little heart. <3
> 
> Also, HUGE thanks to my lovely artist, Lokicorey, for my beautiful cover art and this AMAZING TRAILER!!!  
> You can watch it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=rdCs5HE87DI
> 
> I hope to post this fic one chapter a day, every day, until it's finished - that's 32 days, it's a LONG FIC - and I hope you join me for the ride. It's been a pleasure writing this, and I hope it's a pleasure to read as well.

** **

**Prologue**

 

**Tuesday, January 25, 2022**

Blaine Anderson-Hummel whistled quietly to himself as he walked home from Bean Me Up Coffee, his favorite local shop in the East Village. His breath came out in puffs of fog against the frigid winter air, and he tucked his chin deeper into his soft cashmere scarf. His mood didn't match the bleak weather, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he conjured an image of Kurt puttering around their condo in socked feet, boots placed neatly in the shoe rack by the door, showtunes playing in the background. Just the thought of Kurt made him feel warm and cozy in the midst of the bitter wind.

He quickened his pace, eager to be home. Rounding the last corner, he waved to the kids who were just getting out of after-school care at the Catholic school down the street, and opened the door of his building for one of his elderly neighbors, also just getting home. A welcome whoosh of warm air washed over him as he held the door while she hobbled inside. Following behind her, Blaine pulled his scarf down and unwound it from his neck. "Can you make it down the hall okay, Mrs. Cohen?"

 

"Yes, darling, thank you," she said, giving him a sweet smile as she patted his arm. "Say hello to that dashing husband of yours for me, and tell him I'm waiting for more cookies."

 

"Yes ma'am," he said, tipping his head at her as he made his way to the elevator. He watched her shuffle down the hall as he hit the button, and sighed as he tried to rub some warmth back into his hands.

Four floors later, he was home. "Kurt? Are you home yet? I'm back," he called, easing their door open.

Romeo, their 10-month-old Maltese, came running up to him as he set his bag on the shelf by the door. He picked the puppy up and gave him a cuddle, inhaling deeply as Romeo licked his face with his pink tongue. He loved to bury his face in their puppy’s fur – it reminded him of his old dog, Sport, a sweet golden retriever who was his constant companion in childhood, who’d licked Blaine’s tears away the day he came out to his family. Romeo whined to get down and as Blaine set him on the floor, another scent hit him. Kurt _was_ home, and by the smell of things, he was cooking something _sinful_.  
  
"Kurt?" he repeated, ambling into the kitchen. Romeo's nails clacked on the hardwood floors as he followed after him.

"Oh, Blaine – you're early! I wasn't expecting you for another half hour at least! Oh, this was supposed to be a surprise ..." Kurt was flitting around the small kitchen, juggling whisks and spoons and a carton of chicken broth. He had an apron tied around his waist and his normally perfect hair was just the slightest bit mussed. Blaine smiled to himself, resisting the urge to ruffle it even further.

"Hey, you. I _am_ surprised. Whatever you're making over there smells incredible – what is it?" He walked over to the stove, where several pots sat simmering. Kurt turned and faced Blaine, wiping a tiny bit of glistening sweat from his forehead.

"Oh, nothing really. Just dinner." Kurt's face was casual, his tone nonchalant, but his eyes glimmered and Blaine knew that he'd spent hours in the kitchen already.

"Oh come on Kurt, you never make _just_ dinner."

Kurt sighed. "Well, I wanted it all to be ready and on the table when you got home, but we’re having Cornish game hens with sweet potato risotto and cranberry sauce." His brow furrowed. "It's not too Thanksgiving-y, is it?"

"God no, that sounds delicious." Blaine pulled Kurt into his arms, fingers snaking through Kurt’s hair, and slowly kissed him. "I missed you today."

"I missed you, too," Kurt murmured, gazing up into Blaine's eyes. "But we're going to have to miss each other for a little longer, because I'm kicking you out of the kitchen. I can't work my magic with you in here distracting me, can I?"

 

"No," Blaine answered, giving Kurt's hair one more affectionate tousle. "I guess you can't."

* * *

Twenty minutes later Blaine and Kurt were sitting at the table, soft music playing in the background, moaning as they tasted the first bites of Kurt's carefully prepared meal.

“ _Kurt_ , this is … oh my _god_ ," Blaine said, closing his eyes, tipping his head back. "It might be better than sex."

 

Kurt gasped. "Take that _back_ ," he said with a laugh, smacking Blaine's arm.

Blaine grinned at him. "So, what’s the occasion? Did you hear something from my agent that I haven't? Or – Kurt, have they made you in charge of the fall line?"

Kurt cleared his throat. His leg was jiggling so hard that their wine glasses were wobbling a little on the table, and Blaine narrowed his eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Everything’s fine," Kurt answered, clearing his throat again. "And no, you didn't miss anything important. I actually … I want to talk to you about something. Important."

Blaine hesitated for a split second. "Okay. I’m listening."

"I've been thinking lately," Kurt started, his foot still bouncing under the table. "Our life is pretty settled at this point, I think. We're pretty stable – hopefully I’m in with Marc Jacobs for the long haul, at least until I get brave enough to try for my own line, and I think your writing career is actually going to _be_ a career…" he trailed off.

 

None of this came as news to Blaine. "Yeah, I know. I’m really happy," he said, taking one of Kurt’s hands in his own. "I can't believe how good we've had it lately."

 

"I love you, Blaine, so, so much. You know that, right? That I love you more than anything else in this world?" Kurt almost sounded desperate.

"Of course. Of course I know that," Blaine assured Kurt, his voice soft and gentle, but a tiny wave of panic rose up in his belly. "Are you sure you’re okay?"

Kurt smiled at him. "Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just – lately I’ve been feeling like there’s something missing. Like there could be more for us. Blaine..." He paused and sucked in a breath of air.

 

Blaine swore his stomach was rolling around somewhere under the table. "Kurt – you – are you getting bored with me? Is this – oh, god, do you want to open our relationship or something? Because we can talk about that, but I’m not sure –"  

 

Kurt burst into nervous laughter. " _What_?” he gasped. “No! No, not at _all_!Blaine…" he choked out, trying to catch his breath. "Listen," he said, suddenly serious. "When I said there could be more for us – I meant a _baby_ , Blaine. I – I want to raise a child with you. I'm ready to have a family."

 

" _Oh_ ," Blaine breathed, relieved.

 

"I can’t believe you actually thought –" Kurt sputtered.

 

"I know, I know, I’m sorry," Blaine apologized, laughing, then paused. "A baby, huh?" he asked softly.

Kurt stilled. "Yeah. A baby. What do you think?"

Blaine cocked his head to the side. They'd talked about it before, whether they wanted kids (they did), how many they wanted (usually up in the air), when they wanted it to happen (always 'not yet'). But if Kurt was ready …

 

He tried to picture what their life could look like: Kurt shushing him as he rocked their child to sleep, he and Kurt playing with a toddler, zooming around the room like airplanes and making blanket forts in their living room. He pictured trips to Broadway, trips to the zoo, trips to Ohio where Burt and Carole's faces would light up with the sight of their first grandchild.

 

Maybe 'not yet' wasn't the right answer anymore.   

Kurt was still waiting patiently for him to say something, looking more nervous by the second. "I think…" Blaine started slowly. "I think that sounds much better than a threesome."

 

Kurt snorted.

 

"But seriously, Kurt – how long have you been thinking about this?"

 

"A while," Kurt admitted. "I just – I keep zeroing in on adorable kids everywhere I go. I sketch baby clothes when I’m supposed to be designing suits. I almost cried at a Johnson & Johnson commercial the other day. But, Blaine – if you don’t want this, or if you’re not ready, I understand. I did just kind of spring this on you…" he said, his knee still twitching nervously.

 

"It’s not a no, Kurt," Blaine told him gently. "You know I love kids – you know I _want_ kids. I love the idea of raising a baby with you. And I don't feel like you've just sprung this on me with no warning – we _have_ talked about it before. I just don’t want to make any rash decisions, okay? I mean, is it even feasible for us right now?"

 

"It is, actually. I looked at the numbers already, and we might have to cut back on a few things –"

 

"Like your ever-growing shoe collection?" Blaine asked innocently.

 

"That, and also _your_ penchant for expensive bow-ties," Kurt teased back.

"Touché."

 

Kurt grinned at him. "But yes, I do think that with a few changes, we can make it work. I can show you the spreadsheet I made after dinner."

 

"Of course you made a spreadsheet," Blaine said fondly.

 

"What? They're very efficient and easy to read!"

 

Blaine just smiled and kissed Kurt's hand. "Well, I guess the only other thing to figure out, then,” he said, “is where your sewing machine’s going to go."

 

When Kurt’s face began to form a question, Blaine continued. "I mean, we’re gonna have to convert the workspace to a nursery, right?"

 

Kurt’s face lit up at Blaine’s words and he launched himself out of his chair, throwing his arms around Blaine’s neck. " _You_ ," Kurt said, fiercely kissing him, "are the most _wonderful_ man…"

 

"Only and always for you," he whispered in Kurt’s ear, a smile stretching across his face as he pulled Kurt into his lap in the too-small kitchen chair.

* * *

 

"You know the only bad thing about being gay?" Blaine asked later that night as he was sprawled on the bed, Kurt's deliciously unclothed body hovering over him.

 

"From where I’m sitting, there are _no_ bad thingsabout being gay," Kurt said, his voice low as he licked a line up Blaine's neck, then covered over it with kisses.

 

"Okay, point. But wouldn’t it be so much easier if we could – _ohhh_ – just do this, and – _mmmm_ – _boom_ , there’s a baby?" he groaned as Kurt dragged his fingers over Blaine's nipple. "It’s not fair."

 

" _Boom_ , there’s a baby? Is that how it works?" Kurt asked, quirking an eyebrow.

 

"You know what I mean. You’re – _ahh_ – you aren't exactly helping with my coherency, here," Blaine panted.

 

Kurt smiled."I know." He reached down between Blaine's legs, stroking lightly over his cock and making Blaine's chest heave. "But if we went with the ‘ _boom_ , baby’ scenario, one of us would have to get fat. And it sure as hell wouldn’t be me," he said, bringing his hand back up to Blaine's chest.

 

" _Kurt_ ," Blaine moaned, his hands coming up to latch onto the small of Kurt's back, pressing their hips together. "I’d let you, you know. Get me pregnant," he whispered. "If we could." He gasped as Kurt traced his thumb over Blaine’s nipple again. "Is that weird?"

 

Kurt's hips lifted up and he rolled to the side, facing Blaine. "No," he said softly, smiling. "No, I think it’s sweet. That you’d sacrifice your body like that."  
  
"It’s not that much of a sacrifice, considering what we’d get out of it. And besides, there are lots of things I’d give up for you."

  
"You’ve already given up plenty," Kurt said, his gaze turning stern as he placed a firm hand on Blaine's hip.

 

Blaine pouted a little. "Kurt – are we talking, or making out? Because you're kind of being a tease …" He gestured toward his body, his cock now half-hard.

 

"Can we talk?" Kurt asked. "Just for a little bit, and then we can pick up where we left off. I'm sorry – I just feel like this is important."

 

"Yeah," Blaine said, trying not to feel disappointed as he let his head flop back against his pillow. "So, what were you saying I've given up?"  
  
"Your family?" Kurt said, lying down next to him. Blaine caught Kurt’s hand in his between them.

  
"They gave me up first," Blaine said quietly. "And that was about me, not you."  
  
Kurt turned his head, raising an eyebrow. "Dating a boy who sounds like a girl couldn’t have helped much."  
  
Blaine rose up on his elbow, his forehead wrinkling with his frown. "You don't sound like a girl," he said firmly. "Have you _heard_ yourself? And besides, you think if I'd dated a guy who could've hit a double low G, it would've helped? Kurt, they formed their opinions about me – and my sexuality – before you ever came into the picture."  
  
"I know, but –"  
  
"But nothing. You’re the only family I need." Blaine forced a smile.  
  
"Bullshit."  
  
It was always strangely comforting to Blaine that Kurt could see through him like a ghost. He shrugged. "Well, you’re all I’ve got, so I make do."

 

Kurt slipped his fingers in between Blaine's, dragged them down, his knuckles catching, his fingernails scraping against Blaine's palm. It sent shivers up Blaine's arm. "I'm sorry it's always been that way," Kurt said. "Hard. Unfair."

 

"It's hard to think of my life as hard and unfair when you're naked in my bed," Blaine murmured. "Besides, now we get to make our own family. And this time _we_ get to decide what it looks like."  
  
Kurt rolled on top of him, resting his chin on top of his hands, so close to Blaine’s face that Blaine’s eyes nearly crossed trying to look at him.  
  
"I hope," Kurt said, soft and sweet, "that it looks like love."

 

Blaine caught Kurt's lips in a heady kiss, his hands coming to rest on the small of Kurt's back. "How could it look like anything different," he murmured against Kurt's mouth, "when I'm doing it with you?"

 

When Kurt let out a breathy moan in reply, Blaine closed his eyes and let Kurt lick love into his skin, slippery tattoos of wetness raising goosebumps on his neck and chest in their cool bedroom.

 

A pop of a bottle cap, and Blaine breathed, letting himself relax as if he were floating, opening himself for Kurt with each breath in and out like the tide lapping at the shore. Kurt’s slicked fingers trailed back, then in, then deeper still. He moaned softly into Kurt’s mouth as they kissed, Kurt’s lips firm on his mouth assuring him _I’m here. I’m not going anywhere_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kurt and Blaine meet their baby-mama for the first time :)

**Chapter 1**

 

**Monday, January 16, 2023**

Kurt groaned as the too-loud chime of his alarm roused him from sleep. He batted at his nightstand until he found his phone, turned off the offending noise, and pushed himself up onto one elbow.

 

"Blaine? Blaine, babe, it’s time to get up – we’ve got to be at the agency by 9:30."

 

" _Mmmph_ ," came Blaine’s garbled reply.

 

Kurt sighed and sat all the way up, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. Months of meetings, months of paperwork, months of lawyers and caseworkers, months of waiting and waiting and _waiting_ had all boiled down to this day. It felt less exhilarating and more terrifying than Kurt thought it should.

 

"Blaine," he said again, shaking his shoulder. "What if she doesn’t like us?"

 

An easy smile slipped over Blaine’s face as he rolled over on his back. "What’s not to like?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. "We’re both gorgeous, charming individuals who –"

 

"We’re _gay_ , Blaine."

 

"Hey," Blaine said, grunting as he sat up and leaned against the headboard. "It’s going to be okay. She picked us, remember? Off the website. She saw our picture and read our profile and she still wanted to meet with us. And Karen sounded really positive on the phone."

 

Kurt nodded. "There’s just an awful lot of stuff that can go wrong."

 

"And there’s one really, really big thing that can go _right_ ," Blaine insisted. "We’re going to get a baby out of all of this."

 

"You’re right," Kurt sighed. "Okay – I’m going to shower first, since it’ll take me the entire time _you’re_ in the shower to decide what to wear."

 

"Use the lavender-rosemary aromatherapy shampoo," Blaine called as Kurt padded to the bathroom. "It’ll help."

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, Blaine exited the steamy bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He found Kurt standing in front of their closet, sliding coat hangers back and forth across the rack in a staccato rhythm.

 

"The lavender didn’t help, I take it?" he asked, kissing Kurt’s bare shoulder.

 

"No. I think maybe a Xanax might’ve fit the bill a little better," Kurt answered, glancing back over his shoulder. He sighed heavily. "I know I hardly ever ask you for fashion advice, but –"

 

"Definitely a suit," Blaine said thoughtfully. "Calvin Klein. Navy. White shirt –" he scrunched up his nose, contemplating Kurt’s closet, "– purple tie, I think."

 

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You just like my ass in those pants."

 

"Yeah, so?" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "It looks _delicious_ in them. Not that it’s doing too bad on its own…" He grinned, plucked the towel from Kurt’s waist and gave one ass cheek a light smack.

 

"Hey!" Kurt cried, whirling around and grabbing the towel back. "God, sometimes I feel like you never matured past seventeen. You need to get dressed."

 

"And _you_ ," Blaine said, lightly tapping Kurt’s nose with his forefinger, "need to lighten up a little."

 

"I can’t," Kurt said, holding his hands up, palms open. The towel fell to the floor in a white fluffy heap. "We’ve been waiting so long for this, Blaine. It’s been –"

 

"Eleven months and six days since we started the paperwork," Blaine finished for him. He pressed his forehead against Kurt’s. "I know. I’ve counted, too. I want this just as badly as you do."

 

"I know you do," Kurt said softly. "It’s just – this is our first chance at a baby, Blaine. What if we screw it up?"

 

"I really, really hope we don’t," Blaine answered. "But, if we do – tonight, we’ll gorge ourselves on takeout and chocolate ice cream and watch sad movies, and then tomorrow we’ll pull ourselves together and start waiting again." He pulled back a few inches to kiss Kurt’s forehead. "You know there’s no one else I’d rather go through this particular brand of hell with, right?"  
  
"Yeah," Kurt breathed. "Me either." Blaine kissed Kurt’s forehead a second time and turned to his side of the closet, sliding coat hangers to one side to reach his suits. Kurt caught his arm. "Wear the gray Ralph Lauren. White shirt, navy bowtie with blue polka dots."  
  
"Thank you darling," Blaine chimed, grinning fondly at Kurt. "I can always count on you to make me look pretty. I love you so much, you know that?"  
  
Kurt preened as he slipped his suit pants over his hips.

 

* * *

  
Kurt and Blaine arrived at the adoption agency with fifteen minutes to spare.  
  
"You’ve got all our documents, right?" Kurt asked for the umpteenth time, stopping Blaine on the sidewalk. "Birth certificates? State licenses? Proof of residence, proof of insurance, proof of –"  
  
"Kurt, yes, it’s all right here," Blaine assured him, patting the large black accordion folder clutched to his chest. "I don’t even know if we _need_ all this stuff today, honestly, I’m sure Karen has it all on file…"  
  
"Well, it’s always better to be safe than sorry," Kurt said decisively and opened the door. "Why do they always make these waiting rooms so aesthetically _nauseating_?" he muttered under his breath as Blaine took his hand. They took a seat on the mauve vinyl couch that faced the TV, which was playing a Discovery Health Channel feature about a 4-year-old girl with schizophrenia.  
  
"Well, this is … uplifting," Blaine murmured, blinking at the TV as the girl on the screen rocked back and forth with her head between her legs.  
  
" _Not_ what I wanted to see today," Kurt hissed. "Blaine, what if our kid has something like that? Or autism, or something? I don’t know the names of _any_ early intervention groups nearby … Or what if it’s really Siamese twins –"

 

"Isn't it conjoined?"

 

"Oh, whatever, or has claws for hands or something – what if that's why she doesn't want the baby and they just haven’t had the heart to tell us yet? Oh god…"

 

"Hey," Blaine said firmly, grasping Kurt's hands in his. Kurt quieted instantly. "We deal. We've talked about this – we want a _real_ baby, not a test tube baby. We take what comes, and we love it anyway."

 

Kurt breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. "Yes."

 

"If our child needs early intervention, we'll figure it out. If it needs a prosthetic arm, we'll get one. People don't get to pick what kind of baby they're going to have, Kurt, and neither should we. Okay?"

 

Kurt nodded. "Of course," he said softly. "Of _course_ , Blaine, I'm sorry, I'm just freaking out –"

 

"I know."  
  
They sat, with Blaine's arm tucked around Kurt's shoulders, until Karen, their caseworker, finally stepped into the waiting room.  
  
"Kurt! Blaine! So good to see the two of you this morning!" she said, smiling warmly. "You can come on back."  
  
They followed her, stiff as inmates being led back to their jail cells, and she looked over her shoulder and laughed. "Guys, calm down. It’s going to be okay," she said, ushering them into a conference room of sorts. "Abby and her mom and Micah are running a little bit late, so just make yourself at home – would either of you like a cup of coffee?"  
  
"Yes, please," Kurt said, nodding vigorously. He could always breathe easier with something warm between his hands. He always figured it was because he associated coffee with Blaine.

  
"So now we wait. Again," Blaine said after Karen had breezed out of the room.  
  
"That’s all we seem to be doing lately," Kurt sighed, shrugging his coat off and plopping down in one of the rolling chairs pulled up to the round table.  
  
"At least we get to wait together," Blaine said, spinning the chair around to face him, and pulling it close so that their knees were touching. "It could be worse."

 

* * *

 

Abby’s heart hammered in her chest as she followed her mom and Karen down the hall. Micah walked beside her, clutching her hand in his, and she offered up a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening that she didn’t have to do this alone.  
  
She felt a flutter deep in her core and her hand drifted to her abdomen – it was only the third time she’d felt the baby move.  
  
"I’m so excited for you to meet Kurt and Blaine – I think you’re really going to like them," Karen was saying.  
  
"They seemed cool from the profile thing we read," Micah said, smiling at Abby encouragingly. "And they’re not too old."  
  
Abby’s mom laughed hard, like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, and Abby tried not to roll her eyes. Micah was being serious – they _didn’t_ want some 40-something couple raising their kid, landing themselves in a nursing home before the kid even got to college.  
  
"No, they’re not," Karen agreed with a smile. "And if they seem a little jumpy – be patient with them. They’re probably more nervous than you guys are, okay?" She stopped at a door on their left, opened it, and poked her head inside. "They’re here," Abby heard her say.  
  
Abby’s breathing quickened and she held Micah’s hand tighter. Karen and her mom went in first and she and Micah followed, and there stood the two men from the agency website. _Kurt and Blaine_ , she reminded herself, and stepped forward, finally letting go of Micah’s hand.  
  
"Kurt, Blaine?" Karen said, placing her arm around Abby’s shoulders. "This is Abby Roberts, and this," she said, gesturing behind her, "is Micah Spencer. Abby brought her mom, Holly, with her as well."  
  
The shorter of the two men stepped forward, a grin spreading across his face. He was seriously _cute_ , even cuter in person than in the picture from the website. She tried to force down her blush – he didn’t play for her team, Micah was standing right _there_ , and besides all that, he was way too old for her. Still, it was hard not to stare.  
  
"Hi Abby, I’m Blaine," he said, shaking her hand. His warm hazel eyes met hers and she melted a little. "Thank you so, _so_ much for meeting with us today."  
  
"It’s no problem," she said, feeling shy all of a sudden.  
  
The other man, _Kurt_ , she reminded herself again, stepped toward her with his hand outstretched. "Kurt Anderson-Hummel. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Abby," he said.  
  
"You’re the designer, right? At Marc Jacobs?" she asked, the words flying out of her mouth before she could stop them. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t freak out, wouldn’t make an idiot of herself in front of him, but _Marc Jacobs._ She’d just have to cut herself a little slack.  
  
"In the flesh," he smiled.  
  
"Oh my god that’s like the coolest thing, I cannot believe I am meeting a _real_ fashion designer –" she gushed, then clapped a hand over her mouth. "I’m sorry. Apparently the baby has taken away my filter. Oh my god…"  
  
He just laughed. "It’s okay. But I promise, I’m not nearly as exciting as you might be thinking I am."  
  
 _Yeah right_ , she thought, remembering the first time she ever saw a Marc Jacobs piece. She was eight and it was her parents’ tenth wedding anniversary. Her dad brought out a big, big box with a giant red bow on it and her mom squealed like Abby had never heard before when she opened it, lifting out the blue dress with the shimmers that matched her mom’s eyes.  
  
"Marc Jacobs," her mom had said in a breathy voice, and when her parents kissed, long and slow like in the movies she wasn’t supposed to watch, she decided that whoever Marc Jacobs was, he must be magic.  
  
Abby looked up at Kurt, the twinkle in his own gray-blue eyes catching her attention. "What department do you work in?" she asked.  
  
"Mens’ Ready to Wear," he answered.  
  
"Do you – have you _met_ Marc Jacobs?"  
  
Kurt laughed. "I know him pretty well, actually. I'm one of the higher up in-house designers under him, so I work with him a lot. He’s a nice guy."  
  
Abby stared at him. "That is – that’s –"  
  
"It’s not _nearly_ as cool as it sounds. Don't get me wrong – it's a great job, I love it, but it's not all glamour. Long hours, hard work, crazy models … it has its downsides, too," Kurt was saying just as Karen cleared her throat.  
  
"Okay guys, ready to get started? There’s no paperwork right now – we’re just here to talk."  
  
They all took seats around the table, and Abby couldn’t keep from smiling at the way that Kurt and Blaine’s hands so easily and immediately found each other.  
  
"So Abby, I know you and Micah have read Kurt and Blaine’s profile, and we’ve sent them the information about the two of you. But I’d like to open the floor for kind of a question and answer session between the four of you before we start talking about what adoption might look like to all of you, just so you can get to know each other a little better. Does that sound alright? Mrs. Roberts, you can chime in at any point too, okay?" Karen said.  
  
They all nodded, and Abby spoke up first. "I know this is going to sound rude as the first question I ask, but I noticed that Blaine’s a writer – does that, um – god, this sounds terrible, but do you make any money doing that?" she asked, her cheeks flushing bright red.  
  
"That," Blaine answered with a warm smile, "is an _entirely_ valid question. It didn’t start out paying anything at all, which is why I worked as a waiter for four years after we graduated college. But my first published novel did really well – I _still_ don't know how – and my second novel is actually hitting stores next week. So I get advances and royalties from the books."  
  
"And the trust," Kurt said quietly.  
  
"Kurt…" Blaine said, a pained expression clouding his previously happy face.  
  
"No, Blaine, it’s important." He turned to Abby and Micah. "Blaine’s aunt died several years ago and left her entire inheritance to Blaine. It helps provide for us when his book royalties aren’t coming in as heavily."  
  
Blaine looked uncomfortable, and Abby felt bad for ever asking the question.  
  
"I’m sorry –" she started, but Blaine shook his head.  
  
"No. Don’t worry about it, Abby – you’re supposed to ask questions like that, it’s your baby," he assured her.  
  
"What about your families?" Micah asked, shifting in his chair. "Are they okay with you adopting a kid?"  
  
"My family is thrilled," Kurt answered with a smile. "My dad and I are really close, and he’s won’t stop talking about having a grandbaby to spoil – he’s already decided that he wants the baby to call him Pop-pop," he laughed. "My step-mom’s excited too – she’s a nurse, so I’m sure she’ll be a huge help."  
  
Micah cocked his head to the side. "What about your real mom?"  
  
"She died when I was eight," Kurt answered.  
  
"Oh, sorry man, I didn’t know …" Micah said, awkwardly rubbing his fingers through his messy, dark hair.  
  
"Micah, it’s fine. You couldn’t have known. It was so long ago – I still miss her; I still _remember_ her, but she hasn't been part of my life for years," he explained. "I think of Carole and Finn, my stepmom and stepbrother, as my family now. We’re really close."

 

"That’s awesome. I wish I was close with my family," Micah said, and Abby felt her mom reach around her back to squeeze his shoulder. It hadn’t been easy – Micah’s parents had all but stopped speaking to him after they found out about the baby.  
  
"Me too," Blaine said, looking at Micah sympathetically. "My parents – they never actually disowned me, but we haven't spoken in three years. They don’t approve of my ‘lifestyle choices,’ and they still refer to Kurt as my roommate. We’ve been married for six years now, together for thirteen. They didn’t even come to our wedding," he said sadly. "They probably won’t be involved in the baby’s life. They don’t even know we’re trying to adopt."  
  
"That must be hard," Abby’s mom said quietly.  
  
Blaine shrugged. "It is what it is. We’re used to it by now. And Kurt’s family has been more like a family to me than mine ever was."  
  
"Does your family live here, Kurt?" Abby asked.  
  
"No, we’re both from Ohio," he answered.  
  
"So – would you put the baby in daycare while you’re at work?"  
  
"We’ve talked about that a lot, actually," Blaine answered. "Our schedules are really flexible – I set all my own hours. Kurt doesn’t have quite that much flexibility, but the studio is good about working with you as long as the work gets done. Fashion week, which happens twice a year, is always crazy, and so far both of my books have had U.S. tours, but I can always opt out of doing those. So essentially, one of us will always be able to be home. And there’s always the option of a vacation to Ohio to visit the grandparents every now and then – Kurt’s parents are more than willing to help."  
  
"We’ve also talked about Montessori school, which starts as early as two years," Kurt added. "We wouldn’t use it for daycare, but we love the concept of that type of learning environment."  
  
Abby’s eyes lit up. "Oh my gosh, are you serious?" The more she got to know these men, the more she liked them.    
  
"Abby went to Montessori school when she was younger," Holly explained with a smile. "She and Micah are very creative. That’s one of the reasons they loved the two of you so much – they want their baby to grow up in a house full of books and the freedom to express itself in whatever way it wants to."  
  
"I don’t think self-expression will present a problem in our household," Kurt said with a grin.

 

"What’ll you do if the baby’s a boy? What if he really likes football or something?" Micah asked, and Abby had to hold in a giggle. She smiled at him, ruffling his hair.  
  
"I like football," Blaine said. "I’m a Buckeyes fan – so is Kurt’s dad."  
  
"And _I_ ," Kurt boasted, "kicked the winning field goal for our high school football team."  
  
"In one game," Blaine gently teased, nudging his shoulder.  
  
"No way," Micah said, clearly surprised.  
  
"Oh yes, _and_ , more impressively, Itaught the entire football team Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies’ dance." Kurt paused. "Please tell me I’m not so old that you’ve never heard that song before…"  
  
Abby laughed. "No, I’ve heard it – Mom was a big Beyonce fan back in the day. But I think I was probably – what, Mom, I was little."  
  
"I think it came out when you were a year old," Holly told her, and Kurt and Blaine both groaned and planted their faces in their hands.  
  
Karen laughed. "Just wait till you’re _my_ age, guys. Once you hit 50, it gets really fun." She smiled at them and then addressed the table. "Do we all feel like we know each other a little better now? Does anybody have anymore questions?"  
  
"I have one," Holly spoke up. "Our family is very, very supportive of the LGBT community. We wouldn’t be here with you today if we weren’t – I think you’ll both be fine parents. But not everybody feels that way. Have you talked about how you’ll deal people who question your ability as parents? Or how you’ll handle bullying at school if kids make fun of the child for having two dads?"  
  
Kurt let out a heavy sigh. "I think it really depends on the situation – Blaine and I were both victims of bullying, particularly in high school. Blaine ended up in the hospital once, and like he’s said, we’ve dealt with his parents’ refusal to accept us for years now. Eventually you have to stop caring what other people think and do what’s best for you and the people you love."  
  
Abby cocked her head, contemplating Kurt’s words. Even after reading their profile and all their information from the packet Karen had sent, she’d never considered what the world might look like from their point of view.

 

"That being said, though," Blaine continued, "if a situation comes up where our child is directly involved, we’ll tell him or her to come straight to us or straight to a teacher. We plan to meet with teachers before school starts each year to try and get a feel of what type of action they’ll take against bullying. We’ll also teach our child to remind other kids that not all families look the same, that lots of families have just one mom, some kids live with their grandparents, things like that."  
  
Kurt looked up nervously, and Abby could tell that he was trying to gauge her mom’s reaction. "Don’t worry, Kurt, it's not a test. But if it was, I think you passed," she said. She looked at Karen. "I like them." Out of the corner of her eye, Abby could see relieved smiles on both Kurt’s and Blaine’s faces.  
  
"Okay, great!" Karen looked at her watch. "We’ve just got a few minutes left, but we still need to talk about what you each want this adoption to look like. Abby, Micah? Why don’t you guys go first?"  
  
Abby nodded. "Well – okay, first of all, I really – I don’t want to be here. Well – I do, but I don’t –" She blinked, feeling the tears come to her eyes, and Karen handed her a tissue. She relaxed a little when her mom’s hand came to rest on the small of her back. "This isn’t how things were supposed to go," she continued, wiping her eyes. Black streaks of mascara came off on the tissue, and she wished she’d worn waterproof. "I – I’m going to Columbia in the fall. I’m smart, I make good grades, I don’t sleep around – I wasn’t supposed to get pregnant, this wasn’t supposed to happen." She sniffled. "Micah’s waiting to hear from Harvard, which is his top pick – his parents are _Catholic_ , and they’re so mad about the whole thing. I didn’t want to ruin his life …"  
  
She felt her chin being lifted and found herself staring into Micah’s big, clear blue eyes. "Hey," he said softly, "Nobody’s ruining anybody else’s life here. That’s why we’re doing this. Our baby gets a good home and a good life, and we get to go on to school and make lives for ourselves. My parents will get over it eventually. Okay?"  
  
Abby nodded, happy to bury her face in Micah’s shoulder as he put his arm around her. "We want an open adoption," he continued for her. "Obviously we’re not exactly in a good position to put all our plans on hold – Abby has a full ride to Columbia and I’m waiting to hear back from my scholarship at Harvard, like she said. It’s not that we don’t understand that our decisions have consequences – we just can’t raise a baby right now. But we still want to be part of its life, you know?"  
  
Kurt and Blaine nodded. "You seem like smart kids," Blaine said softly. "You’re making good decisions, for you _and_ your baby. I think adoption is the most selfless thing that anybody can decide to do."  
  
"Are you and Kurt interested in an open adoption?" Karen asked.

 

"We’d actually prefer it," Kurt said. "There are going to be questions – do I have a Mommy, where is she, why do I have two Daddies – and we want to be able to answer those questions as thoroughly as possible. We’re open to being very flexible with the agreement."  
  
Abby’s tears began to subside. "Is it too much to ask to be able to see the baby sometimes?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.  
  
Blaine shook his head. "Not at all. We were thinking maybe give us two or three months or so at first, just to adjust – we’d be more than happy to send you pictures and videos and emails and everything during that time – and then we’ll go from there?"  
  
She nodded rapidly – it was more than she ever expected. "Yes. Yeah, that would be awesome," she said. "I just – I want the baby to know that I _wanted_ it. And that I love it."  
  
"Of course," Kurt said. "You know, we had a friend in high school – Quinn – she got pregnant when she was sixteen and placed her baby for adoption. It was so, so hard on her. And I’m not saying it won’t be hard for you, but we want to make it as easy as we can."  
  
"Thank you," she sniffled, even though _nothing_ about this was easy. "You – you’ll love my baby, right? Like it’s your own kid? You’ll take it to piano lessons and have cookies in the afternoon after school and make sure homework’s done and – will you sing it lullabies at night? And read bedtime stories?" Abby tearfully listed off all the things she wished she could do, all the things she knew she’d miss the most.  
  
"I promise," Blaine said gently, "that we will love this baby more than anything in the entire world. We want a child so badly, Abby – I promise, it will never, ever, _ever_ not be loved. I – I know what it’s like for your parents not to love you or accept you. That will never happen to this baby."  
  
Abby nodded, her eyes clenched tightly shut, as if that would somehow keep the tears inside. Micah’s arms slid around her waist and she buried her head in his shoulder again for a moment, allowing him to soothe her.  
  
"I got mascara on your shirt," she sniffed, swiping at it with her hand. The mascara, of course, stayed.  
  
Micah shrugged. "Not the first time it’s happened. I’m sure it won’t be the last either. It’s ok – it comes out in the wash."  
  
She smiled, so glad to have this sweet boy in her life, then looked over at Karen. "Okay," she said with a huge sigh, trying to calm down. "I don’t know if this is an acceptable thing to do, and I know we haven’t talked about it yet, but I want Kurt and Blaine to be involved with the pregnancy if they want to. Like, come for ultrasounds and stuff. Is that legal?"  
  
"They can be as involved or not involved as you want them to be,” Karen explained. “It’s completely up to you – and them."  
  
She looked at Kurt and Blaine, dabbing at her eyes. "I have an appointment in a week and a half – we’ll find out if the baby’s a boy or a girl," she said. "Would you like to come to that?"  
  
They stared at her. "You mean – wait. So. You’ve – decided already? That we – that you want us to adopt your baby?" Kurt stammered.  
  
"We’d pretty much decided already," Micah admitted. "We just wanted to meet you, just to make sure."  
  
"And you don’t need to talk about it any more?" Blaine asked hesitantly.  
  
Abby looked at Micah and shook her head just slightly. "No, I don’t think we do."  
  
"Now, you can’t sign any papers until after the birth occurs – you’re aware of that, right?" Karen asked Abby.  
  
"Yes – but is this okay? To choose this early?" Abby asked, getting nervous.  
  
"Abby, this decision is yours and Micah’s to make. If you feel that Kurt and Blaine would make good parents for your child, then it’s absolutely okay. It’s just that nothing can be legally binding until after the baby is born."  
  
"Okay, good." Abby looked at Kurt and Blaine. "So," she said, her voice still shaky. "Do you want to be my baby’s parents?"  
  
They both nodded their heads vigorously and she could see tears gathering in their eyes. "Yes," Kurt whispered. "Yes, we do – we –"  
  
"Thank you so much," Blaine said, his voice thick. "You don’t even understand –"  
  
Before she could stop herself, she rose from her chair and walked around to the other side of the table. Kurt and Blaine stood to meet her, and she threw her arms around both of them at once, the tears threatening to spill over again.  
  
"I’m sorry, god, I don’t mean to be so emotional," she said, wiping her eyes again.    
  
"Join the crowd," Kurt said, dabbing at his eyes with his own tissue that he’d grabbed.  
  
"Okay. Wow," she said, taking a deep breath. "This is – wow." She laughed, patting her tiny belly. "So, I just have one more condition."  
  
"What’s that?" Blaine asked, looking suddenly nervous.  
  
"Well two, actually. You have to give the baby a _fantastic_ name, and it is only allowed to wear fabulous clothes. All the time. I know about Marc Jacobs’ baby line," she said, eyeing Kurt.  
  
He burst into laughter, another tear leaking out of the corner of one eye, and buried his face in Blaine’s shoulder.  
  
"Thank you," Blaine repeated. "Abby, you have no idea –"  
  
"We do, actually," Micah said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "You guys are doing just as much for us."  
  
"Well, I think that about wraps things up for today," Karen said. Abby could hear the smile in her voice. "We’ll set up another meeting closer to the time of delivery to draw up papers for the open adoption agreement, but until then, any contact you make is up to you, alright?"  
  
Abby felt lighter than she had in _weeks_. She gave Kurt and Blaine one more hug goodbye and she and Micah walked out hand-in-hand. She felt her mom’s arms slide around both of them as they reached the sidewalk.  
  
"Well, Mom – what do you think?" she asked.  
  
"I’m so happy for you, sweetheart. I think they’ll be great parents."  
  
"I’m kind of glad they’re gay," she said softly.  
  
"Why’s that?"  
  
She paused. "I’ll still be the baby’s only mom. I won’t have to compete with anybody. Does that make me a bad person?"  
  
Micah squeezed her hand, and her mom shook her head. "No, sweetheart," she said, "I don’t think that makes you a bad person at all. I think that makes you _human_."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shortest chapter in the fic - Don't worry, they'll get longer!

**Chapter 2**

 

**Thursday, January 19, 2023**

Just three days after their meeting with Abby Blaine was sitting at his desk checking and rechecking his schedule, confirming flights and drivers and his route for the 2-month-long book tour he’d be embarking on in two weeks. He was in the middle of transferring all the information to a huge wall calendar for Kurt when his phone rang.

 

He didn’t recognize the number. He hesitated, then answered, knowing full well that Kurt would’ve told him to leave it.

 

"Blaine?" A small, female voice that he didn’t quite recognize came through the phone line.

 

He paused. "Abby? …Is this Abby?" he asked, sitting up in the chair.

 

"Yeah," she said. "Is this a bad time?"

 

"No, not at all – just looking over my schedule. What’s going on?" He paused, realizing what a phone call from Abby could mean. "Are you okay? Is everything okay with the baby?"

 

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just – everybody got so excited the other day that I never really finished talking to you guys about the ultrasound. Did you want to come? You totally don’t have to if you don’t want to…"

 

"No, no, we’d love to come!" he assured her. There was no way in hell he was missing his first chance to lay eyes on his child. "What day is it?"

 

"Monday, January 30th at 4:00 after I get out of school. I’ll be nineteen weeks that day, and they said it’s usually a better picture at nineteen than at eighteen, so I thought I’d wait…"

 

"That’s perfect, actually," he said, looking at the calendar in front of him. He absentmindedly reached down to pet Romeo as the puppy brushed against his leg. "I’m free, and Kurt can leave work early that day."

 

"Great!" Abby exclaimed. "I’m so glad you’re coming. I know I was all emotional the other day, but the more I think about it – you guys raising my baby, I mean – the more I feel like I can breathe again."

 

"I’m glad," he said sincerely. "I know we said this about fifty times the other day, but thank you so much for choosing us. I promise you, your baby is going to be _so_ loved –" He felt a pang in his chest as he thought about it – this was really happening, he was _actually_ going to be raising a child with Kurt. Sharing late-night feedings, fighting over who would get to be the class dad in preschool, going to school plays, sports games, maybe Glee competitions – he couldn't wait.

 

"I know," Abby said softly. "It’s why I picked you. I’ll see you guys in a couple weeks, okay?"

 

"Yeah, sounds good. Do you want to just meet us at the doctor’s office, then?"

 

"Yeah, Micah and I are headed straight there after school’s out. It’s at Garden OB/GYN in the Upper East Side," she said.

 

"Okay, we’ll see you there!" Blaine said happily.

 

He hung up the phone, grinning to himself as he wrote _4:00 – Abby’s ultrasound_! on the calendar and drew a little smiley face next to it. He reached down to pet Romeo, who was sitting at his feet, chewing on a bone.

 

"Romeo? It looks like we’re gonna find out if you’re having a brother or a sister soon," he told the puppy, who licked his hand as he reached down to pet him. He patted his knees and Romeo hopped up in his lap. He smiled as the furry face nuzzled his own, then picked up his phone and dialed Kurt’s number.

 

"I have happy news!" he sang when Kurt answered his phone.

 

"Well hello to you, too," Kurt replied.

 

"Hi," Blaine said with a grin, still petting Romeo. "So, Abby just called me – we finalized details, and we’re going to get to go to her 19-week ultrasound to find out the sex of the baby!"

 

Kurt drew in a sharp breath, then barked out a laugh. "Seriously?"

 

"Seriously," Blaine answered.

 

"I can’t believe – Blaine, we’re _here_. This is _happening_."

 

"I know, I know. The timing is perfect too – Abby’s appointment is three days before I leave on the book tour, so I’ll be free, and you’ll just have to leave work a little early. The appointment’s at four o’clock two Mondays from now."

 

"Okay, good. But god, I’m going to get in so much trouble – we’ll have just found out the gender and then you’ll be gone for two months. Who’s going to be my voice of reason when I accidentally spend all night on baby websites?" Kurt asked.

 

Blaine groaned. "I didn’t even _think_ about that. Do I need to take your credit card with me?"

 

"Maybe," Kurt teased. "Blaine?" he asked after a long pause. "In less than six months? We’re gonna have a baby."

 

"I know," Blaine said softly. "It doesn’t seem real yet."

 

"It might seem more real when you come home to a house full of baby paraphernalia and a massive credit card bill," Kurt said sweetly.

 

"Mmm."

 

"Mmm is right." Blaine could hear someone talking to Kurt in the background. "I’m sorry to cut this short, but apparently we’ve just experienced a fabric crisis so I’ve got to run. I’ll see you tonight?"

 

"Okay. Good luck with your crisis! And don't worry about picking up food on your way home – I'm cooking dinner," Blaine said with a grin.

 

"Ooh, _yay._ I love you."

 

"Love you too, Kurt."

 

Blaine hung up and opened his laptop. He typed out a quick email that he’d meant to send three nights ago, but hadn’t ever gotten around to doing.

 

            _To: DAWarblers (group), Alex Davidson, Chad Sullivan, Annie Harper_

_Subject: Happy News!_

_Dear friends,_

_Thank you so much for your support and thoughts as Kurt and I continue on this road toward adoption. We are overjoyed to be able to tell you that (part of) the waiting has finally reached an end – we found a birthmother! Her name is Abby and she’s invited us to go with her to a doctor’s appointment in a couple weeks to find out the baby’s sex. She’s just in her second trimester, so we’ve got a while to go still, but so far, so good, and we couldn’t be more thrilled. I wish we could tell you all in person. We love you all, and hope you’re all doing well. We’ll continue to send updates as we find out more news!_

_All our love,_

_Blaine and Kurt_

He hit send, effectively updating all his high school and college friends in one fell swoop. He closed his laptop and Romeo flopped over onto his back, begging for a belly rub now that Blaine’s attention could be focused on him. Blaine chuckled and complied, leaning in so that Romeo could lick his nose.

 

"Okay buddy," he finally said, giving the puppy’s head a little pat. "What do you think we should make Kurt for dinner tonight, huh?"

 

* * *

 

"So if it’s a boy," Kurt said in between bites of Blaine’s curry, "I really like the idea of doing the nursery in neutral stripes, maybe a couple light shades of gray? And then maybe some pops of bright colors throughout the room, like red and aqua or yellow and green. _Or_ if you wanted to go a bit more traditional, we could do light green, maybe with a mural – but I am not doing baby blue, it’s so overdone –"

 

"Kurt?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"Maybe we should wait until after this doctor’s appointment to start designing the baby’s room," Blaine suggested.

 

Kurt frowned into his bowl. "You can never start designing too early," he grumbled.

 

Blaine grinned. "You’ve already picked out paint swatches, haven’t you?"

 

"Maaaaaybe," Kurt said, stretching the word out and cocking his head mischievously.

 

"Is that why you were late getting home?" Blaine asked.

 

"Maaaaaybe," Kurt repeated.

 

Blaine sighed, acquiescing. "We’ll look at them after dinner."

 

"Of course we will," Kurt preened, swinging his legs happily.

 

"But we are _not_ doing any actual decorating until _much_ closer to time, okay?" Blaine warned.

 

Kurt gave him a coy smile. "Whatever you say, honey."

 

* * *

 

**Tuesday, January 24 th, 2023**

"We’d _love_ to have you guys stay with us," Kurt was saying into the phone as he padded into the bedroom. Blaine was in bed reading already, the room dark except for the lamp on his nightstand. "Although sleeping space might be an issue. I guess we could put you up in a hotel…"

 

"Kurt, you know good and well that we’ve got a nice air mattress that Carole and I can use and Finn can sleep on the couch," his dad told him.

 

"But the baby will probably be crying – I don’t want you guys to be kept up –"

 

"Look, we want to come so we can _help_ you. What good are we gonna be in a hotel? This is my first grandkid, Kurt – it’s not like I’m going for the lap of luxury or anything."

 

Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine and shrugged as if to say " _Parents – what are you gonna do_?"

 

"Let’s just table this until closer to time for the baby to be born, okay? We’ve got almost six months," he said, shrugging off his cardigan.

 

"Fine. Is Blaine around?" Burt asked.

 

"Yeah, he’s right here," Kurt said, and covered up the microphone on his phone. "Blaine, it’s Dad. You want to talk to him?"

 

Blaine nodded, reaching for the phone. While they were talking, Kurt shed his shirt and jeans, pulling on a pair of cut-off sweats and a thermal Henley. He could hear snippets of Blaine’s conversation with his dad, and it made him smile to know that there was at least one father figure in Blaine’s life who cared about him.

 

"Did Kurt tell you about the ultrasound?" Blaine was asking as Kurt slipped into the bathroom, sliding a headband over his hairline.

 

"No, I really don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl – I know people always say that, but I really don’t."

 

Kurt unscrewed the cap of his face wash and ran warm water in the sink. There was a long silent moment, and he wondered what his dad was saying.

 

"Well, Kurt’s right – of course we can get you guys a hotel!"

 

Oh. _That._ Kurt lathered his face, sighing as the tiny bubbles tingled on his skin. This was his favorite part of the day.

 

"Burt, listen – no, there’s no sense in you guys being kept up half the night too. – You know what? Kurt’s right about that too – we do have six months, we’ll work it out."

 

Kurt rinsed his face with the warm water and put two squirts of astringent onto a cotton ball, rubbing his T-zone carefully.

 

"Yeah – how’s the shop been lately?"

 

Kurt’s moisturizer came next, followed by the night cream, which felt deliciously cool on his skin. He pulled the headband off, ruffled his hair, and walked back into the bedroom.

 

"Good, good, that’s great news! And your heart? Good reports from the doctors?"

 

Kurt slipped under the covers and settled back against his pillow, tracing lines on Blaine’s upper arm.

 

"Good to hear – yeah, it was really good to talk to you too, Burt. Send my love to Carole – goodnight."

 

"I’m glad you can talk to my dad like that," Kurt said softly, his fingers still lightly ghosting over Blaine’s bare skin.

 

"Mmm, me too."

 

Kurt paused, wondering if it was too late to start a conversation of this gravity. "Do you think we’re doing the right thing, not telling your parents about any of this?"

 

"Of course I do."

 

"Okay. I was just thinking –"

 

Blaine sat up in bed. "You were thinking what, Kurt? What exactly would you like me to tell them? ‘Oh hey, haven’t talked to you in two years because you wouldn’t let my _husband_ come to Christmas dinner since there was _family_ present, but just so you know, we’re having a baby!’" His hands were shaking and his jaw was set. Kurt could see the muscle underneath his skin working as Blaine clenched and unclenched his teeth.  
  
He waited, keeping quiet. He knew that Blaine wasn’t angry with him, but he also knew Blaine had to work these things out in his own time.  
  
He rubbed his hand over Blaine’s bicep, and Blaine sighed heavily, deflating. "They’d never understand, Kurt."

 

"I know. I just don’t want you to look back ten, fifteen years from now and regret this decision. I – I don’t want you to resent me, Blaine."  
  
From the shocked look on Blaine’s face, Kurt’s admission took him by surprise. "Hey," Blaine said evenly. "If I’m going to resent anybody, it sure as _hell_ won’t be you. None of this is your fault."

 

"It’s not my fault that your parents are assholes, no," he said crassly, mainly just because he could get away with it. "But – our baby is going to grow up and ask questions. And we’re going to be able to tell it who its birth mom and birth dad are – but we won’t be able to explain why it only has one set of grandparents. I just feel bad – we’re having to fend my dad and Carole off, and yours aren’t even going to know the baby exists."

 

Blaine sighed. "I don’t want another child exposed to such a toxic environment – it was bad enough that I had to grow up in it. I’m _definitely_ not bringing my own kid into it." He looked up nervously. "What if I’m like them, Kurt?"

 

"What?"

 

"What if I turn out like them? What if it’s some weird DNA malfunction, like a bad parenting gene or something?"

 

"Don’t be ridiculous," Kurt chided.

 

"I don’t _want_ to be like them," Blaine defended, his hands raised.

 

"Blaine," Kurt said, cupping Blaine’s cheek in his hand, "that’s the most important part, the fact that you don’twant to be like them. You’ll probably be even more aware of how you’re parenting than I am, because you’ll be so concerned with doing the opposite of everything your parents did that you’ll pay more attention.”  
  
"Oh, great, so I’m _aware_ ," Blaine said sullenly. "That doesn’t mean I’ll be any good as a dad."  
   
"Oh, honey, you’ll be an _amazing_ dad. You are so good and so kind and so patient – that’s got to be the trifecta of good parenting, right? And if it makes you feel any better, I have no idea what I’m doing, either. We’ll figure it out together. It’s going to be fine." He dragged his lips slowly over Blaine’s, and Blaine sighed into the kiss, one hand coming up to tangle in Kurt’s hair.

 

"You really think so?" he whispered, pulling back just enough that their foreheads and noses were pressed together.

 

"Mm-hmm," Kurt murmured. "I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. Abby wouldn’t have _picked_ us if it wasn’t true."

 

Blaine sighed, giving in as Kurt worked his way down his jaw and onto his neck. "I hope you’re right."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kurt and Blaine see an ultrasound and fall in love.

**Chapter 3**

**Monday, January 30 th, 2023**

"You ready for this?" Blaine asked, reaching for Kurt’s hand outside the OB/GYN office.

 

"We’re going to be the only two men in the room that came in _together_ ," Kurt grinned, proud and smug.

 

"Not what I asked."

 

"Still true," Kurt said.

 

"They’re all going to stare," Blaine said.

 

"Yes, Blaine, that’s why I picked out _both_ our outfits," Kurt told him as if he were a child.

 

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I’m still offended that you don’t trust my fashion sense enough to let me dress myself for a room full of grouchy pregnant women."

 

" _Judgemental_ grouchy pregnant women," Kurt corrected. "So we have to be fabulous."

 

"We’re always fabulous, Kurt," Blaine scoffed, tugging him inside the office. "But we’re going to be fabulously _late_ if you don’t hurry up."

 

Sure enough, half the women and all of the men in the waiting room looked up when they walked in, and Blaine chuckled to himself as Kurt subtly worked the crowd, tangling their fingers together and smiling sweetly. The act dropped, though, when they spotted Abby sitting by herself, tear stains visible on her cheeks.

 

"Abby, where’s Micah?" Blaine asked, reaching her first.

 

"Why should I care?" she muttered. " _He_ obviously doesn’t."

 

"Want to talk about it?"

 

"No," she said, shaking her head. She tried to bring her knees up to her chin and stopped halfway. Her belly was already too large to afford the movement. She scowled, planted her feet on the floor and crossed her arms over her chest.

 

"Could your mom not come with you?" Blaine asked. "I hate that you had to come by yourself."

 

"She’s at work," Abby explained with a sigh. "She’s a lawyer for a financial firm and they had this huge client coming in today. I didn’t want to bother her."

 

"I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded," Blaine said.

 

"No, probably not, but she might’ve lost the merger and I don’t want that on my conscience on top of giving up my baby. How horrible do you guys think I am?"

 

Kurt shot her a look. "Abby –"

 

"Sorry," she said. "It's just – it kind of sucks that you guys are the only people who care enough to come with me. No offense."

 

"Don't worry about it. We're just glad you wanted us here," Blaine told her.

 

She nodded, her right hand drifting toward her growing belly, and they drifted into an awkward silence.

 

Finally her name was called. "Abby Roberts?"

 

All three of them walked toward the door where a bored nurse in pink scrubs was standing with a clipboard in her hand.

"We need a urine sample from you, bathroom’s over there," she told Abby briskly, pointing toward another door. "And who are you, exactly?" the nurse asked Kurt and Blaine.

"We’re the adoptive parents of Abby’s baby," Kurt said. "We’re here for the ultrasound."

"Mmmhmm," the nurse said absently. "Well you can go back and sit in the waiting room until we come to get you."

Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and they walked back to their seats. He could feel all eyes on them as they walked back to where they’d been sitting, and he took a deep breath before sinking into the uncomfortable chair again. He watched as Kurt flipped through the stack of magazines on the table beside him and eventually picked up _Parenting._

 

" _Blaine_ ," Kurt hissed a few minutes later, poking his arm.

 

"What is it, babe?" Blaine asked softly as he leaned in toward Kurt.

 

"We are going to suck as parents," Kurt whispered. "Have you ever heard of this Ferber sleep thing? Or something called plagiocephaly?" He shoved the magazine over toward Blaine. "I feel like we’re already three months behind."

 

Blaine smiled at Kurt reassuringly and lightly pecked him on the cheek. "We’ll be fine. But if it’ll make you feel better, we can subscribe to this and any other parenting magazines you want when we get home, okay?" he murmured, rubbing his thumb over the back of Kurt’s hand.

 

"I just don’t want us to get the baby and then realize have no idea what to do …" Kurt mumbled, flipping the page.

 

"We’ll figure it out," Blaine assured him. "I have no doubts in your abilities as a father."

 

"Well _I_ do," Kurt said, pointing at the page in front of him. "Look – _Is My Baby's Poop Normal_? That is an article. About poop. _Poop_ , Blaine." He paused, reading further down the page. "Oh my god, it looks like _mustard_? Are we really prepared for this?"

 

"Kurt, calm down, we'll be fine. It can't be that bad." Blaine tucked his head on Kurt’s shoulder, reading along. "Oh, ew. _Seedy_ mustard. Huh." They looked at each other, perplexed expressions coloring their faces, and then started to laugh quietly.

 

Blaine nudged Kurt's shoulder with his chin. "Just think of it as a grand adventure," he smiled. "Only, instead of fighting pirates with swords, we'll be fighting dirty diapers, and instead of figuring out the best way to get out of quicksand, we'll be figuring out the best way to get spit-up out of cashmere and silk."

 

"Blaine? When, in this lifetime or _any_ , have I ever had to figure out how to get out of quicksand?"

 

Blaine just grinned as the same bored-looking nurse stuck her head into the waiting room.

 

"Kurt and Blaine?" she said. "They're ready for you."

 

"Quicksand, really?" Kurt whispered as their hands found each other.

 

"It seemed like a good metaphor at the time," Blaine hissed back. "You know, babies, little kids, swordfights and jungles and adventures?" Kurt gave him a blank expression.

 

"I had tea parties, Blaine. And musical revues."

 

"Right."

They found Abby lying stoically on the table, her shirt pulled up over her belly. She was poking at it with her index finger and every so often, she’d take a deep breath and try to suck in her abdomen. The little round bump stayed put.

 

"I’m gonna have stretch marks," she said, looking up at them. "Do you know how ugly those things are?"

 

" _I_ think," Blaine said, "that they are a sign of how strong and amazing that women’s bodies are. Stretch marks from pregnancy are just a reminder that you _grew_ a _baby_."

 

"Yeah, a baby I never wanted in the first place," Abby said.

 

Kurt gave Blaine a look. "You are too sappy for your own good, sometimes." He planted himself in a chair next to Abby. "Find out if your mom had them or not. If she did, there's not a whole lot you can do, but try drinking lots of water – which you should be doing anyway – and rubbing cocoa butter or olive oil on your stomach. It might not help, but it definitely won't hurt."

 

Abby looked up at Blaine. "Useful, isn't he?" she asked, cracking a smile.

 

"Always," he answered, grinning back at her.

 

"Are we all ready in here?" a voice asked from outside the door.

"Yeah," Abby answered.

 

"Okay, great!" The door opened and the ultrasound tech walked in, a pretty girl with smooth mocha-colored skin in turquoise scrubs. "I’m Macy – I’ll be doing your ultrasound today. Abby, right?" She nodded. "And who are these guys?"

 

"Blaine and Kurt," Abby answered, pointing at them respectively. "They’re adopting my baby."

 

"Nice to meet you guys!" Macy said, pressing buttons on the ultrasound machine. "Okay Abby, I'm going to squirt some of this gel on your belly. Be prepared, it's cold." Abby let out a sharp breath as the blue gel hit her skin.

"So what we’re looking for today is that all your baby’s organs are in the right place," Macy explained. "I’ll do some measurements to make sure that the baby’s growth is matching up with your dates. And then, if your baby decides to cooperate, we’ll see if you’re having a boy or a girl. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Abby parroted.

 

Macy placed the ultrasound wand on Abby’s stomach and moved it around a bit until the picture on the screen was clearer.

 

"Oh my god," Kurt breathed. "It actually looks like a baby."

 

Macy laughed. "Well, what did you think it would look like?"

 

She pointed out specific features, the baby’s nose, the baby’s arms and legs – "You can see its bones!" Abby had exclaimed upon seeing a tiny hand – and then stopped.

 

"Do you see that? The little fluttery movement? That's the baby’s heart," Macy told them, pushing a button on the ultrasound machine. All of a sudden they heard a _whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh._

 

"Is that the heartbeat?" Blaine asked, awestruck.

 

"Yep. It’s strong and regular. That's good," Macy answered. Thin lines appeared on the screen, and Macy seemed to be taking pictures of them. "I’m just doing measurements right now," she explained.

 

They watched as she pointed out all the baby's internal organs, its heart, its kidneys, its brain, and Abby breathed slow and steady through it all.

 

“Everything’s matching up great," Macy finally said. "You’re right at nineteen weeks and three days and the baby’s growing well."

 

"So everything looks normal?" Kurt asked.

 

"Well, I can’t say anything official until the doctor reads it, but so far everything looks fine to me," Macy told him. "Now, the fun part – does everybody want to know the baby’s gender?"

 

All three of their heads bobbed in unison.

"Alright." Macy moved the wand to a different angle on Abby’s stomach. "See this picture? We're coming at the baby upwards from the bottom – there are three tiny little lines. Do you guys see them?" She made little arrows point to what she was talking about on the screen. Kurt and Blaine squinted and tilted their heads, trying to make sense of what they were looking at.

"Abby? Those three little lines mean that you're having a baby girl."

 

Time seemed to stop. Blaine felt like he was underwater, sounds swimming around his head. He could hear Abby repeating the word over and over, could see her pressing her hand into her gel-covered belly, could feel Kurt tugging on his hand. But in another part of his head, he saw pictures, visions of the future. He watched himself come home to Kurt and their daughter having a tea party, saw a bouncing purple tutu lit up by stage lights, felt a tiny body in his lap at the piano, chubby fingers plunking out an out-of-tune melody.

 

Kurt’s lips pressing against his brought him out of his daydream. "A girl, Blaine. _Do you even realize the clothes I’m going to put her in_?" Kurt exclaimed, beside himself with excitement.

 

Abby looked up at them, her smile happy, but her eyes sad. "Do you think she’ll look like me?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Oh, Abby, I hope so," Blaine said softly, petting her hair. "She’ll be beautiful."

* * *

"No, absolutely not," Blaine laughed, pulling Kurt’s arm as he stopped to ogle the storefront window of a baby store called Giggle.

 

"But _Blaine_ ," Kurt whined, "it’s a special occasion …"

 

"No. We talked about this. We’re not buying anything yet."

 

"Oh come _on_ ," Kurt begged. "Just one little dress? Please?"

 

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I’m going to regret this later, but okay. _One_ dress. That’s it, though."

 

Kurt squealed and grabbed Blaine’s hand, tugging him into the door.

 

* * *

 

" _Why_ can I never say no to you?" Blaine grumbled as they juggled the bags in their arms.

 

"I’m irresistible," Kurt said seriously, then spotted their downstairs neighbors. "Hi, Mrs. Marshall! Noah, Gabe, how are you guys?"

 

"Good!" the boys sang out together.

 

"Well, well, well, somebody’s been on quite the shopping spree. Is that – baby stuff? Something you need to tell me?" Mrs. Marshall asked.

 

"We’re adopting a baby girl," Blaine beamed. "She’s due at the end of June."

 

Mrs. Marshall let out a squeal. "Oh my gosh, you guys – I'm so excited for you! She's going to be spoiled rotten."

 

"Obviously," Kurt said with a laugh, shifting the packages in his arms. "Come on, honey, let’s get this stuff upstairs."

 

Blaine shrugged his shoulders at Mrs. Marshall and her boys as he adjusted his own load and took off after Kurt, who was headed toward the elevator. He smiled to himself, comforted by the fact that he could follow Kurt anywhere and it would still be home.

 

* * *

 

Abby was standing at the stove stirring a pot of macaroni and cheese when she heard the door open.

 

"Mom! How was the merger?" she asked, looking up from the stove.

 

"Hi, honey," her mom said with a smile. "It went fine, thanks for asking. How'd the appointment go today?"

 

"Okay. Micah didn’t come."

 

Her mom frowned. "Why not?"

 

"We had a fight at school," she said, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard. "I kind of accused him of flirting with Kate."

 

"And was he flirting with Kate?" Holly asked neutrally as she spooned out a serving of mac and cheese for herself.

 

"I don’t know," Abby sighed, dramatically flopping into a chair at the kitchen table. "They were talking – I’m sure I just overreacted. Stupid hormones," she mumbled.

 

"Speaking of hormones, Abby …" her mom hinted.

 

"Oh!" she squealed. "Oh, right – Mom, it’s a girl!"

 

Her mother’s face broke into a grin and Abby stood up as her mom rushed toward her, enveloping her in a warm hug. "Oh sweetheart, that’s what you wanted, right? Did Kurt and Blaine get to come?"

 

Abby felt herself tearing up. "Yeah," she sniffled, "they were there. They’re so excited."

 

"Good, sweetie, I’m glad." Holly paused. "Are you okay?"

 

"I’m – it hurts, Mom," she said, her voice breaking. "I know I’m doing the right thing. I _know_ I am. But seeing her on that screen … I don’t know, I just really wish I could keep her." Her mom led her to the couch, pulling her into another hug.

 

" _Shhh_ ," she soothed. "It’s okay sweetheart, _shhhh_."

 

As Abby’s tears subsided, her mom pulled back a little, looking in her eyes. "This is still what you want, right? You know Daddy and I will support you in whatever you want."

 

"No, no, I know that," she said. "I know she’ll have a better life with them. I’m trying to think about Columbia, and how awesome that will be. It’s just – hard, you know?" She grabbed a tissue from the box on the end table and dabbed at her eyes. "God, I’ve got to start wearing waterproof mascara."

 

Her mom laughed. "We'll get some for you tomorrow. Come here, sweetheart, give me a hug."

 

Abby allowed herself to be folded into her mother's arms like she had when she was small and fell down and skinned her knees.

 

"Mom?" she asked into her mom's wavy blonde hair. "Did you get stretch marks when you were pregnant with me?"

 

* * *

 

"I guess we should probably call people and let them know," Kurt said, surveying the mess that their workroom/nursery was quickly becoming.

 

"Oh, of course!" Blaine exclaimed. "God, how could I have forgotten that? I’m sorry –"

 

"Hey," Kurt said calmly, stepping into Blaine’s space. "Not an issue." He pressed a tender kiss to Blaine’s lips, picturing Blaine’s parents in their living room, sitting stiff and silent as Blaine’s dad read the paper and his mother worked a crossword. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if their phone rang with news of a grandchild.

 

Blaine pressed back, his love for Kurt evident in the pressure of his lips, the way his hands cupped Kurt's hipbones.

 

"Do you want to be the one to tell my dad?" Kurt asked when they broke apart.

 

Blaine’s brow immediately furrowed. "Are you sure?"

 

Kurt pressed his phone into Blaine’s hand in reply. "He’d love to hear it from you."

 

"Thank you," Blaine whispered reverently, as if Kurt had just given him a gift.

 

"I’ll go update my half of the mass-email list while you talk," Kurt said, unplugging his laptop and moving toward their bedroom. "Say hi for me, okay?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Blaine goes on a book tour, Kurt meets Matt Damon, Abby feels the baby move, and Rachel is still very much herself.

**Chapter 4**

 

**Wednesday, February 8 th, 2023**

"Hey, stranger," Kurt’s voice rang out happily on the other end of the phone line.

 

Blaine fell backwards onto the made-up hotel bed, the too-thin comforter feeling scratchy under his skin. "Hi. How was work?"

 

"Mmm, it was okay. Marc let us go early, told us to rest up for tomorrow."

 

"I'm so, _so_ sorry I'm missing Fashion Week," Blaine apologized for the hundredth time. He’d only been on the book tour for six days and already he was itching to get home. The fact that he was missing one of the two biggest weeks in Kurt's year wasn't helping much.

 

"It's okay, honey. Just think – you'll be missing the bi-annual Fashion Week meltdown!"

 

"Yeah, but I wish I could help you _through_ the bi-annual Fashion Week meltdown."

 

"Well, there's not much we can do about it. I'm not mad, and I'll text you pictures, okay?"

 

"Okay," Blaine agreed begrudgingly.

 

"How are your adoring fans?"

 

Blaine laughed. "Mostly good. But it was so weird and _awkward_ – I had this one guy bring in, I kid you not, a _dildo_ for me to sign today. Said it was for his wife."

 

Kurt gasped into the phone. "You’re joking!"

 

"I’m not!"

 

"You don’t even write those kinds of books!"

 

"I know," Blaine said, rolling to his side as he laughed, bringing his knees up to his chest. "Like I said, weird and awkward."

 

"So what was his angle?" Kurt asked, deviously curious. "Is his wife in love with you? Does he think that by adding your name to a sex toy, his sex life will somehow improve?"

 

"I have no idea. Security escorted him off the premises before he could explain," Blaine said, on the edge of laughter again. "I mean, Kurt, there were kids there!"

 

"Well, I wish I had such exciting news from the home front," Kurt said, "but it’s just me and Romeo being boring old couch potatoes. We miss you."

 

"You’re letting him sleep in the bed, aren’t you?" Blaine asked, amused.

 

Kurt paused. "No," he said.

 

"Don’t lie, Kurt," Blaine teased.

 

"Okay, fine, yes, he’s sleeping with me. Our big bed gets cold, and he’s fluffy and warm and nice to cuddle."

 

"Mmm, may as well spoil him now – the poor dog’s gonna be totally neglected when the baby comes. Speaking of … have you heard from Abby at all?"

 

"Nope. Which means everything’s fine, Blaine; stop fretting. Abby’s in high school, she’s busy. She’s not going to call us every day and tell us how many times the baby moved."

 

Blaine exhaled slowly, the tension creeping out of his neck at a snail’s pace. “You’re right,” he conceded. "It’s just hard, being all the way in Chicago when you’re in New York. I worry."

 

"Mmm, I worry about you, too. I had a nightmare about you being trampled by fans last night," Kurt admitted.

 

"Kurt, I’m no J. K. Rowling," he said, hoping that his grin was evident in his voice. "And I'm not like the Beatles or Mick Jagger or something, with screaming teenage girls chasing me down the street. I’m just a guy who happened to write a book that people liked. The only danger, apparently, is coming in close contact with other people’s sex toys."

 

"You could get an STI," Kurt pointed out.

 

"Well I’m not going to _use_ them," Blaine said, disgusted. "Plus, I have the mall security on-hand. I think you’ll worry less after you come visit me."

 

"So only two more weeks of concern that you’ll be offed by a dildo-wielding maniac, then. Excellent."

 

Blaine chuckled, stretching back out and rolling onto his stomach. "I wish you were here now."

 

"I wish I was too – I’m lonely enough, but I bet you’re lonelier. At least I have Romeo to keep me company at night."

 

"It won’t be as bad this week – I’m having lunch with Jeff and Nick and his girlfriend tomorrow, and they’re going to show me around the city," Blaine said.

 

"Good, I’m glad you have something to keep you occupied. I, meanwhile, will be waist- deep in desperate models who have no idea what they're doing. We’re starting the selection process early this year – Marc wants all fresh meat," Kurt said.

 

"Now _I’m_ going to be worried about dildo-wielding maniacs," Blaine quipped, making Kurt break out in laughter. "But seriously, do try not to fall in love with any of them," he said softly. "You’d break my heart."

 

"Blaine, you know you’re the only man for me," Kurt scolded. "No pretty boy – even a dildo-wielding one – is going to change that."

 

"Can we talk more about this dildo-wielding when you come visit?" Blaine asked. "You’re giving me ideas."

 

Kurt giggled boyishly, and Blaine closed his eyes at the lovely sound. "I’ll be sure to pack accordingly," he said.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, Kurt was reading his copy of Vogue in bed with Romeo when his phone buzzed next to him with his nightly text message.

 

**From: Sexy McHotpants**

**Goodnight, husband. I love you.**

He smiled, shaking his head at the screen where Blaine had changed his name in Kurt's contacts before he left. He hadn't had the heart to change it back, and knew he wouldn't until Blaine's return.

 

**To: Sexy McHotpants**

**Goodnight, husband. I love you too.**

 

It was a ritual that had started when Blaine was researching his first book in the South, and had continued any time they'd be apart for more than a few days at a time. Every night, the same message, sent at bedtime. It was a small, simple way for them to feel connected even when they were miles away.

 

Kurt could picture Blaine in his hotel room, covers pulled under his chin in spite of the heat, and pillows pressed to his back to simulate Kurt's presence as he fell asleep. When Kurt was finished with his magazine, he knew he'd do the same, closing his eyes and pretending it was Blaine sleeping behind him.

 

"Just two months," he told Romeo, petting behind the puppy's ears. "Daddy will be home before you know it."

 

* * *

 

**Thursday, February 9 th, 2023**

Blaine laughed jovially as he Nick, Caroline and Jeff stopped on the corner in front of a little white restaurant, charcoal letters spelling out _Blackbird_ on the front.

 

"We thought it'd be a nice blast from the past to remind you of home," Jeff grinned. "Plus, the food is _awesome_."

 

Blaine slung both arms around Jeff's and Nick's shoulders, pulling them in for a short hug. "God, I missed you," he said, feeling a little guilty as Caroline looked on awkwardly. He didn't intend to leave her out. "Come here," he said to her, letting go of the guys and tugging her into a hug as well, but backed off when she looked mildly uncomfortable. "I'll tell you the whole story when we get inside."

 

* * *

 

"It's so good to see you guys," Blaine said before taking a careful bite of his seared whitefish sandwich once they'd been seated.

 

"It's good to see you, too, Blaine!" Nick said, nudging his shoulder. "We miss you, especially on karaoke nights."

 

"Oh my god, _karaoke_! I miss karaoke – I'll have to get Rachel to come out with me one night when I get home," he said, grinning."Or maybe you guys could come visit."

 

"That'd be awesome," Jeff said, stealing a French fry off of Nick's plate. "I love New York."

 

"Everybody loves New York," Nick said, grabbing Jeff's sandwich and taking a bite in retaliation. Blaine watched as Caroline surreptitiously took Nick's hand and kissed his knuckles, drawing his attention back to her.

 

"Do you want a bite of my salad?" she asked, holding her fork up to Nick's mouth.

 

"Oh, sure. Thanks, babe," Nick said, taking the bite, and Caroline smiled, quiet and smug. Blaine wondered what was going on there.

 

"It'd be really great to have you guys," he continued. "I feel like most of our friends in New York are just Kurt's friends who happen to like me as well. It's harder to meet people when your office is the local coffee place …"

 

"I bet you meet _plenty_ of people," Jeff said, smirking at him. "And then I bet they walk the opposite direction when you tell them a) you're married, or b) you play for the other team."

 

Blaine blushed. "Not really –"

 

"Oh, whatever, you're just as studly as you were when you were our lead singer," Jeff said. "Nick, am I right?"

 

"Total stud," Nick said around a bite of chicken. "You should hear him sing," he said, turning to Caroline. "If he wasn't gay, I might be worried that you'd leave me for him." She smiled tightly, and Nick shrugged. "She doesn't sing. She doesn't really do music at all," he explained.

 

Blaine was sad for Nick, hearing this bit of information. Even though neither he nor Kurt ever sought out professional music careers, he couldn't imagine living in a home without music. "So no karaoke night for you, then?" he asked.

 

"Ahh, no. That's boys night." She laughed drily. "Until I met Nick, I thought boys night meant beer and football or pool or something. I never knew it could involve musical theater and singing in front of a bunch of people you don't know …"

 

"I think boys night can be whatever you want it to be," Blaine said. "Like, in our house for instance … right now, boys' night is usually going out to some swanky restaurant and seeing a Broadway show –"

 

"I bet that's not the _only_ kind of show you see," Jeff said deviously, waggling his eyebrows. "I haven't forgotten your and Kurt's bachelor party, you know."

 

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Ignore him. But in about four months, boys night is gonna be sitting at home, singing songs about rubber duckies, and deciding who's taking the late shift for feedings."

 

"Oh my god, the baby!" Jeff exclaimed. "We haven't even asked! How's that going?"

 

"Well, it sucks, being this far away from Kurt and missing doctors' appointments and stuff. But other than that – it's fantastic," Blaine beamed. "Do you want to see an ultrasound picture?"

 

* * *

**Tuesday, February 14 th, 2023**

**To: Sexy McHotpants**

**YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE**

**WHO I JUST MET OH MY GOD**

Kurt attached the image of himself _beaming_ with his arm around Matt Damon and sent it to Blaine.

 

**To: Sexy McHotpants**

**He came up to me and said that he**

**loved my work. Matt. Damon. Knows.**

**Who. I. Am.**

A few seconds later, as he was gathering his things to go home, Kurt's phone buzzed in his pocket.

 

**From: Sexy McHotpants**

**Well, Happy Valentine's Day to you,**

**too. Instead of roses, I get a picture of**

**you and Matt Damon. I didn't know you**

**were into older guys ;)**

Kurt sucked in a gasp – he'd _completely_ forgotten what day it was. He quickly dialed Blaine's number. "Oh my god I'm so sorry, I'm the worst husband in the history of the world," he sputtered in one breath as soon as Blaine answered the phone.

 

"Kurt, it's fine," Blaine said, laughing. "I'm glad you got to meet him – tell me everything."

 

Kurt grinned, his heart warming at Blaine's words more than it ever could have with even Matt Damon standing in front of him. "I love you."

 

"Mmm, I love you, too. You know, I was planning a little tete-a-tete for later tonight – but if you're interested, we could move it up a little. I'm in my big, lonely hotel room all by myself …"

 

Every thought of every celebrity flew from Kurt's mind as he pictured Blaine, spread out on the bed, his eyes dark. "Yes," he said, stuffing things in his bag as fast as he could. "Yes, definitely let me just get my stuff – I'll call you back as _soon_ as I get home, Blaine."

 

"Or I could stay on the line, whisper dirty things in your ear to get you in the mood," Blaine said playfully, but Kurt knew he was half-serious.

 

"Oh," he said, feeling a little lightheaded at the thought. "Um, okay. If you'd like to."

 

"I'd _love_ to," Blaine said darkly, and Kurt tugged at his collar as he quickly bid goodbye to Marc and the rest of his team. "I bet you're pulling on your collar right now."

 

Kurt laughed, flushing. "You know me too well."

 

"I do," Blaine said. "I'm well acquainted with _all_ your parts. Like, your nipples for instance. They're such a nice color, and I love that they stand up for me when I touch them. I want to touch them, Kurt. Or lick them. Just imagine that, my tongue on your chest …"

 

Kurt took a deep breath before he started down the sidewalk. It was going to be an uncomfortable trip home.

 

* * *

"Oh my god," Micah said as he shot across the couch, away from Abby.

 

"What?" she asked, panicking, "Why’d you stop kissing me? What’d I do?"

 

"Nothing, nothing," Micah babbled. He scooted back over, placing warm hands on the deep purple organza covering the swell of her abdomen. She sighed under his touch. "I just thought I felt something – holy shit, there it was again. Did the baby just move, Abby?"

 

"Yeah, could you feel it?" she asked.

 

" _Yeah_ ," he said, his face breaking into a grin. "That’s – it’s –"

 

"I know. Kind of weird, huh?" She looked down at her belly, rubbing over the spot where the baby had just kicked.

 

"Yeah, I guess – but really cool. I kind of – I wonder what she looks like some days, you know?" he asked, suddenly shy. She nudged his shoulder as he hung his head bashfully, his long bangs falling over his eyes.

 

"Me too," she said.

 

"I hope she looks like you," he murmured, moving his hands from her stomach to her face. Her eyes fluttered shut as he gently kissed her.

 

"Micah?" she asked, curling into his side. "Do you think Kurt and Blaine will be good dads?"

 

"I think they’ll be _great_ dads," he said. "You picked them. I trust your judgment. And they seem like cool guys, you know? She’s gonna have a good education, and she'll get exposed to more things than we could ever be able to."

 

"I know. I know it’s best for her. There’s no way we can do college with a baby, and I _am_ going to Columbia, and you _are_ going to Harvard, as soon as you get that letter, and I’m not letting one mistake change my life forever. But – I can’t help feeling guilty, for calling her a mistake," she said, playing with the sleeve he’d rolled up onto his forearm.

 

"Hey, _she’s_ not a mistake," Micah told her seriously. "She’ll be smart and cute and she’ll make Kurt and Blaine really, really happy, and we’ll still get to know what’s going on with her. _We_ made the mistake. And we’re getting _her_ out of it. How can that be bad, Abby?"

 

She shrugged, willing herself not to cry. Again. "I don’t know – it’s just hard, being connected to her like this and knowing I’m going to have to let her go." She took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face. "I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to ruin Valentine’s Day."

 

He grinned at her. "You didn’t ruin anything. I love you, ok?"

 

"I know. I love you too. I’m sorry for being so crazy lately …"

 

Micah shook his head. "Not crazy." She raised her eyebrows, and he laughed. "Okay, fine, maybe a _little_ crazy. But not your fault. _Her_ fault," he said, replacing his hand on her belly. "God, I love feeling her. It’s more real to me, feeling her like this. Have Kurt and Blaine gotten to feel her yet?"

 

"Don’t you think that’d be weird, Micah?" she asked. "What am I supposed to do, just call them up and be like 'Hey, lovely weather we’re having lately, wanna come feel my belly?' They’d run away screaming."

 

He laughed again. "I think they’d love it. It’s gonna be their baby, too. You should call them."

 

She smiled then, and cocked her head. "You’re a really great guy, you know that Micah?"

 

His cheeks flushed, and _god_ he was adorable when he did that. "You know, I do my best."

 

"Well, you do a good job," she said, kissing his hand, then tugging at his arm. "Come on – I think my parents have chocolate-covered strawberries hidden somewhere in the fridge."

 

* * *

 

 **Friday, February 17th, 2023**  
Kurt was settled on the couch, a throw pillow behind his head, Romeo curled in his lap, a new book open to page three, when his phone rang. He groaned when he saw the caller ID.  
  
"Hello, Rachel."  
  
"Several points of order," she started in, not even offering a proper greeting. "One: why are you still using my old e-mail address? I only use it for junk mail, and I hardly ever check that account. I gave you the new one _months_ ago! Two: _why_ have I been demoted to the mass New Directions e-mail list as if I’m just some old acquaintance from high school that you never see anymore? You should have called me the _moment_ you found out!Three: _Oh my god, you’re having a baby girl!_ I can’t wait to help you raise her – what does her mom look like? If she’s even remotely Jewish, we can groom her to be my prodigy – maybe Blaine can take up playwriting and we can be cast as mother and daughter! Four: On a related note, just for the e-mail stunt, I’m automatically nominating myself to the top of the Potential Godmother Candidates list. And five: We really should get together soon; it’s been forever since I’ve seen you. _Oh,_ and congratulations, Kurt."  
  
He blinked several times, trying to let his brain catch up with his ears. Rachel continued to be his only competition, not excluding speeches that could rival the State of the Union address.  
  
"Okay, one," Kurt said, gathering steam, "Blaine was in charge of compiling the lists, you can blame him. And he, coincidentally, is not here for you to yell at. Two, _everyone_ is on the e-mail list, including Finn. The only person I _haven’t_ put on there is Dad. Three - what was three again? I’ve lost track."   
  
"I believe it was something about how your daughter will grow up to fill my perfect size seven character shoes," Rachel said helpfully.  
  
"No. No, no, no, I love you, but the world can only handle one Rachel Berry at a time," he said. "As for the godmother thing, Blaine and I will make that decision together and no begging or complaining – or _blackmailing,_ Rachel – will sway us one way or the other. But just between you and me," he said, conspiratorially lowering his voice, "you’re already in the top five."  
  
"Well, obviously. And five?"  
  
"Ummm …"  
  
"We should get together?" Rachel reminded him.  
  
"Oh, right!" Kurt said. "We really should. What about tomorrow – are you free?"  
  
"As a bird," she said, her voice lilting. "It’s been so long since we had a girls’ day out, Kurt. I figured you needed one when I read the latest e-mail. I feel bad for you being all by yourself."  
  
"I survived all by myself for years," he said, a bit of disdain drifting into his words. "I think I’ll be okay."  
  
"Well of course you will, but you you’ll be _better_ than okay if you’re with me," she correctly insisted. "Spa Ja for facials and massages and then Mooncake for a late lunch?"  
  
"Rachel, I love you," he sighed, leaning back and letting Romeo creep up his chest until the puppy’s furry chin was resting on his own.  
  
"I know, I know, I’m wonderful," she laughed. "Save the rest of your praise for tomorrow."

 

* * *

**Friday, February 24th, 2023**  
Blaine met Kurt at the Portland airport’s baggage claim with a bouquet of flowers in one hand, his arms outstretched.  
  
"Blaine! I should be meeting _you_ with flowers, not vice-versa!" Kurt said, his words muffled by Blaine’s coat.  
  
"You just traveled for ten solid hours, just to be with me for three days. You had a three-hour layover in Detroit. Your clothes are wrinkled and you’re stiff from the plane ride and I know you’re miserable – so you deserve some flowers," Blaine said decidedly. He placed his hands on Kurt’s shoulders and pulled back. "Let me look at you. You look tired."  
  
"I think we both look tired," Kurt observed. Ashamed, Blaine reached a finger up to rub at the bags he knew hung under his eyes. He never slept well while traveling alone. Kurt retrieved Blaine’s hand and squeezed it gently. "We’ll both sleep better tonight."  
  
Blaine nodded. "Ready to grab your bags and get something to eat?" he asked.  
  
"Bags yes, food, not sure. My body thinks it’s 1:30 in the morning, Blaine."  
  
"A snack, then?" Blaine suggested. "How do you feel about ice cream?" He waggled his eyebrows.  
  
Kurt burst out laughing. "I feel like you’re the only person who would suggest such a thing – it’s late, it’s cold and it’s February, Blaine." He watched as Blaine’s eyes lost their mischievous twinkle and morphed into round, sad saucers. "But if you’re going to make the sad puppy face, I may as well go ahead and give in now. Plus, you’re pretty adorable with a chocolate ice cream moustache. And it’ll give me something to lick off later."  
  
Blaine grinned widely. "Excellent. Because there’s this fantastic gelato place I discovered yesterday that’s just a block from the hotel, _and_ there’s a Sumptown Roasters within walking distance that we can hit in the morning…"  
  
"Oh, _coffee_ ," Kurt moaned. "I _knew_ I would love Portland. Oooh, look, there’s my bag," he said, grinning at Blaine as he dragged his enormous suitcase off the conveyor belt with one large heave.  
  
Blaine raised his eyebrows. "Kurt, you’re staying for three days."  
  
"Yes, and I haven’t seen you for three _weeks_ , so there are lots of essentials."  
  
It was Blaine’s turn to laugh happily, and he pressed a kiss to Kurt’s cheek as he grabbed his carryon and slung it over his shoulder.  
  
"I could’ve handled that, you know," Kurt said.  
  
Blaine smiled at him. "I know. But I’d rather carry it for you."

 

* * *

 

 **Saturday, February 25th, 2023**  
"Okay, so you were right – your rabid fans aren’t quite as rabid as I imagined," Kurt admitted as they walked hand-in-hand out of the bookstore the next afternoon.  
  
"I told you. And I still can’t believe you stood in line to get my autograph," Blaine chuckled, shaking his head.  
  
"I’m a _very_ big fan of yours. I’d wait hours for you to sign my book. Among other things …"  
  
"You would _not_. Eventually you’d get bored and march straight to the front of the line, claiming spousal privilege," Blaine said.  
  
"You’re not wrong," Kurt said, twisting his platinum wedding band around on his finger. "So what’s the game plan for the rest of the afternoon?"  
  
"I’ve got a reading at the university scheduled tonight, but until then, we’re home free. Any ideas about what you want to do?"  
  
"Do you remember that conversation we had a couple weeks ago, where I said I would pack accordingly? I didn’t forget," Kurt answered with a coy smile.  
  
Blaine tried in vain to keep his face neutral. "Oh, really? How’d you manage to get that through airport security?"  
  
"I took the batteries out and stashed it in my checked bag, silly. Do you think I’d actually carry it onto a _plane_?"  
  
"Probably not."  
  
"Probably not," Kurt repeated. "Now – hotel?"  
  
"Yes, please," Blaine said.  
  
Kurt gave Blaine’s driver their destination and they piled into the back seat together. Kurt kept his hand steady but inconspicuous on the inseam of Blaine’s pants the whole ride back, and Blaine, grazing his fingers back and forth over Kurt’s wrist, breathed slow and deep.

 

* * *

 

 **Sunday, February 26th, 2023**  
"I’m glad it worked out so I could come see you here," Kurt said as they wandered down an empty path toward a pavilion in the Lan Su Chinese Garden. "I think I like Portland. But that could just be because you’re in it. Or maybe it’s the coffee."  
  
"It’s probably the coffee. The coffee’s _good_." Blaine smiled, placing a hand on the small of Kurt’s back, and guided him to a bench looking out over the water. "I know this totally sucks, but I’ll be home soon, Kurt, I promise."  
  
Kurt squeezed his hand, then turned toward the water and sat very, very still. Blaine gazed at him, the pale blue scarf wound loosely around his neck, the soft gray sweater showing off a tiny sliver of skin at the base of its v.  
  
"I know it’s cliché," Kurt said slowly, "but I feel so _peaceful_ here. Like – my soul is resting, or something."  
  
"I don’t think it’s cliché," Blaine replied. "I think that’s how you’re supposed to feel. Your soul _needs_ rest sometimes." He paused. "I’m glad our souls can rest together."  
  
"Mmm," Kurt hummed in agreement, then stared out over the water in silence for several moments longer. A breeze rustled through the bamboo grove, making the already-cool morning feel colder, and Blaine slid his hands deep into the sleeves of his sweater as he watched the flowerless lily pads float lazily atop the water.  
  
"It’s quieter than home," he said, breaking the silence.  
  
Kurt craned his neck to look at him, his body still facing the water. "A bit, yes," he grinned, threading their fingers together. "It makes me sleepy."  
  
"Let’s go get tea, then." Blaine let his hands emerge from his sweater sleeves and stood, holding out a hand for Kurt. "It’ll be warm, and the Teahouse looks beautiful – I researched it online before we came."  
  
Kurt nodded, pecking Blaine on the cheek. "I want to take our daughter to places like this," he said as they strolled along the quiet gardens. "I’d love to start traveling with her while she’s young – I want her to have all the opportunities to see the world that I didn’t."  
  
"One caveat – I’m gonna need her to be out of diapers before we do any long plane rides," Blaine said, sliding his arm around Kurt’s waist and tugging him close.  
  
"Deal," Kurt agreed. "Can you believe it’s just four months now? We’ve still got so much to do …"  
  
"Shhh," Blaine hushed him, placing a finger over Kurt’s lips. "We’re not allowed to think about all the things we have to do right now. We’re going to go and enjoy our tea and then we’re going to go back to that pavilion and I’m going to kiss you by the water and you’re going to fall in love with me all over again."  
  
"Too late," Kurt murmured, stopping Blaine in the middle of the path. "I think I already have."  
  
Blaine hummed happily as Kurt’s lips found his, and he touched their noses together before pulling away. "I’m so happy you’re with me right now," he whispered.  
  
"Mmm, me too," Kurt replied, and he rested his head on Blaine’s shoulder as they walked, pressed together, toward the Teahouse.

 

* * *

 

 **Monday, February 27th, 2023**  
"Hey, you make it home okay?" Blaine’s voice was static-y over the phone, and Kurt walked across the condo, checking his signal.  
  
"I did. I picked Romeo up from the boarder’s, and even with him running all over the place and smelling everything, it _still_ feels too empty here without you. I miss you."  
  
"I miss you too, Kurt. Part of me wants to say fuck it and just come home to you, but I hate to disappoint my ‘adoring fans,’ as you call them. And we really need the money if we want to get the Serena and Lily crib _and_ the glider …"  
  
"And we _definitely_ want to get them," Kurt said decidedly, opening his bookmarks to the website. He gazed longingly at the crib set he’d had his heart set on for over a year, white and lavender with green accents, with a lavender glider and ottoman to match.  
  
"You’re looking at them right now, aren’t you?" Blaine asked knowingly.  
  
"Yes," Kurt admitted, closing his laptop with a sigh. "I’m getting impatient. I just want her here now."  
  
"Hey, don’t rush things along too fast, Kurt – let’s at least wait till I’m home and we have a crib for her to sleep in!"  
  
"I know, I’m sorry," he said, getting up to refill Romeo’s water bowl.  
  
"You don't have to apologize. I know you’re just excited," Blaine said. "Hey, listen, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got to let you go – I need to get my stuff together. Alex is telling me we’re about to head to Seattle."  
  
"Mkay," Kurt said, not wanting to put the phone down. "I’ll be in the studio all day tomorrow trying to catch up – we’re still choosing models, and Marc wants one of my designs revamped a little. Call me tomorrow night?"  
  
"Can we Skype instead? I know it’s sappy, but I miss seeing your face."  
  
Kurt smiled. "I miss seeing yours too. Just text me and let me know what time is good for you, okay? I love you."  
  
" _Yeah, Alex, I know, I’m coming,_ " Blaine said, his voice sounding far away. "Sorry – I love you too. I’ve really got to go though, Alex is on my case."  
  
"Yeah, I can hear that," Kurt said, opening the fridge to see what he could possibly eat for dinner. There wasn’t much – maybe Rachel would come over and eat take-out with him. "Go, before you get in trouble. Love you."  
  
"Love you back."  
  
Kurt sighed, setting his phone on the kitchen counter. "Just five more weeks, Romeo," he said to the puppy at his feet. "Think we can make it?"  
  
Romeo barked once, jumping up and placing his paws on Kurt’s shins in reply. "Yeah, I know, I miss him too, buddy," he said, lifting the dog off the ground.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which life is hard sometimes, but phone sex makes everything better.

**Chapter 5**

 

 **Friday, March 10, 2023**  
"Hey, baby," Abby smiled, rushing toward Micah during her break between first and second period. She slowed as she saw the pained expression on his face. "What’s wrong?"  
  
"I need to talk to you," he said quietly.  
  
"Micah – what’s going on?" she asked, a million different scenarios playing in her head, all of them bad. She felt a sudden wave of nausea. "Are you – you’re not –"   
  
He shook his head. "No, no, I’m not breaking up with you. Just – come here," he said, pulling her into the corner of a corridor. He let out a heavy sigh. "I got my Harvard letter."  
  
"And?" she asked expectantly.  
  
"And I got in – but I didn’t get the scholarship," he said sadly. "Mom and Dad aren't budging. I can’t go."  
  
"Oh, Micah," she breathed, pulling him into an awkward hug, her ever-growing belly getting in the way. "I’m so sorry."  
  
"No, no, don’t be," he said, shaking his head. "I mean, that’s good, right? I get to go to Columbia with you, now."  
  
Her head tipped to one side. "But you didn’t _want_ to come to Columbia with me, Micah."  
  
He shrugged. "Plans change. I guess my essay just wasn’t what they were looking for."  
  
"And there’s no way that your parents would –"   
  
He huffed out a laugh. "Before the baby? Maybe they would have. But now – God, they’re so _disappointed_ , Abby. My mom will hardly look at me anymore, and I overheard my dad telling her that I’m a disgrace to the Church, even though I went to confession like three months ago. I’m lucky they didn’t kick me out of the house …"  
  
She hung her head. "I’m sorry I’ve caused so much trouble for you at home. I feel like this is my fault."  
  
"Abby, come on. It took both of us to make this baby. I don’t – I don’t regret having sex with you," he said quietly. "Even though I said I did when I went to confession. I don’t even know if I _believe_ that stuff or not. I just know – I love you."  
  
She nodded rapidly, blinking away the tears that came so easily now. "I love you too, Micah. I’m so sorry about Harvard."  
  
He shook his head. "No. It’s – it’s good, I guess. We’ll be together now. Isn’t that what you said you wanted, back in the fall?"  
  
"Things are a little different than they were in the fall," she said, a hand on her belly.  
  
He paused. "Yeah. They are."  
  
"Come on," Abby told him, taking his hand after she’d run her fingers under her eyes, brushing away the tears. She’d taken to wearing waterproof mascara all the time now – no more black streaks on her face. "We’re gonna be late for French class."

 

* * *

  
 **Friday, March 24th, 2023**  
"Thanks for letting me come, Dad," Kurt gasped out, hardly able to breathe for the squeezing pressure of Burt's arms around his chest.  
  
" _Letting_ you come …" Burt muttered under his breath. "Kurt, when have I _ever_ turned down a visit from you? Come on, grab your bags and let's go home."

 

They walked to the car and Kurt stared out the window as the familiar Ohio landscape flew past, thinking of all the trips he'd made home. There hadn't been many without Blaine after they'd moved to New York.  
  
"So you needed a break from the empty house, huh?" Burt asked after a long silence.   
  
"Something like that," Kurt mumbled.  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
Kurt sighed. "Blaine started the southern portion of his tour two days ago. He's in _Charleston_ right now. As in South Carolina. Last night while he was talking about how charming and quaint it is, all I could think of was some idiot taking a crowbar to his ribs. It’s like his research for his first book all over again. I just – I had to get out of there. And since I had a long weekend now that Fashion Week is over …"  
  
"I gotcha," Burt said, reaching over to pat Kurt's shoulder. "But Blaine's a grown man, he can take care of himself. And doesn't he have security at those signing things?"  
  
"Yeah," Kurt said glumly. "But they're just mall security – I don't know how much training they've had for intense situations. I just worry, you know? I love him."  
  
"I know you do, kiddo. So do I."

 

* * *

 

"Dinner's ready, boys." Carole's head peeked out of the kitchen into the living room where Kurt and Burt were talking, the TV on low in the background.  
  
Burt grinned, vaulting himself up out of the chair and attaching himself to Carole's side. "What'd'ya make, honey?" he asked before planting a kiss on her cheek.  
  
Kurt smiled to himself – misguided intentions aside, he'd never regretted setting his dad up with her. Over the years, Carole had become a second mother to him, and he loved her dearly.  
  
"Shaved asparagus pizza – and because it's a special occasion, strawberry and rhubarb pie for dessert," she smiled.  
  
"Sounds great," Burt smiled back, and Kurt shook his head. Never in a million years would he have believed that his dad could ever get excited about a dish with "shaved asparagus" in its name.  
  
They pulled their chairs up to the table, which felt oddly empty without either Finn or Blaine there, and Carole poured Kurt a glass of wine.  
  
"Now," she said, "a little birdy told me that you got to meet Matt Damon in the flesh. Don't deprive your old stepmom of all the juicy details – is he as dreamy as he looks?"

 

* * *

 

They were laughing over their pie, loose and happy with an empty bottle of wine on the table, when Kurt's phone buzzed.  
  
 **From: Sexy McHotpants**  
 **Well, you were right – seems like Charleston's not quite as friendly as I thought it was :(**  
  
" _Shit_ ," Kurt whispered under his breath.  
  
"Hey," Blaine answered on the first ring, sounding tired and sad.  
  
"What happened? Are you okay?" Kurt asked, pushing his chair away from the table. He couldn't sit still for a conversation like this. Burt gave him a quizzical look; he held up his hand.  
  
"Oh, I'm fine. It wasn't anything physical," Blaine said, and Kurt let out a sigh of relief. "I'd finished my reading and I was talking to some fans after the event, signing books, the normal routine. And Kurt – this adorable little girl came up to me, curly brown ringlets, big blue eyes. She couldn't have been more than about five or six. She had my book in her hand, and I couldn't help but think that maybe – that's what our baby will look like, you know?"  
  
"Blaine?"  
  
"Anyway, she hands me the book, and –" Blaine's voice hitched, "somebody had written 'fag' across the front in black sharpie."  
  
"Oh, _Blaine_ ," Kurt sighed.  
  
"It gets worse," Blaine continued. "That little girl pointed at me and with the most serious expression I've ever seen on a kid, she said, 'My Mommy says you're going to burn in hell.' And then she turned around and walked off."  
  
Kurt felt a cold chill run down his spine. He walked back toward his chair at the table, grabbing the closest hand he could reach, which happened to be Carole's.  
  
"I'm sorry – I know I shouldn't be this upset about it," Blaine said, his voice shaking.

 

"Blaine, it's not your fault – please don't apologize –"

 

"But she was just a _kid_ – it shouldn't matter. But – that's the worst part, I think, it _was_ just a kid, an adorable little girl who's going to be tainted forever because of the lies her parents are telling her and I just – I really wish you were here."  
  
"Oh, Blaine, baby, so do I," Kurt murmured into the phone, his heart heavy. He gave Carole's hand a squeeze, mouthed _I'll explain later_ to her and his dad, and walked up the stairs to his old room. He shut the door with a satisfying click, turned the lock for good measure and slumped against the wall.  
  
"You still there?" Blaine's voice was thin.  
  
"Always."  
  
"Good," Blaine breathed. After a beat, his voice dropped even further. "I want to come home."  
  
Kurt sprang into action. In less than ten seconds, he was sitting cross-legged on his old bed, the Southwest Airline website open in front of him. "Do you want to fly into Ohio or New York? If you want to go _home_ -home, I can see about getting a flight in the morning so I can meet you …"  
  
"Kurt, no, I didn't mean – I'm not stopping the tour because of this," Blaine said. "If I ran away just because a five-year-old told me I was going to burn, my credibility would go to hell right along with me. I just wish I could be with you right now."  
  
Kurt sighed heavily. "I know. God – okay, actually, I might be able to find a flight to South Carolina tonight …" He clicked back a page and changed the flight itinerary.  
  
"No. No flights. We're not wasting five hundred dollars just because I had a bad night."  
  
"Then what do you want me to do?" Kurt snapped into the phone.  
  
"I just –" Blaine sighed. "I need you to remind me that we're not wrong."  
  
" _What_?"  
  
"I – that came out wrong. I don't – we _aren't_ , Kurt, don't ever think that I think that we are, but–"  
  
Kurt sighed again. "Blaine, honey, you're not making any sense." He closed his laptop, set it on the floor and stretched out on the bed. "Let's start over. If I were with you right now, what would you need from me?"  
  
"Well …" Blaine paused. "I was going to say I'd need you to hold me, which I still would, but – I think I'd need more than that."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Your hands," Blaine said.  
  
"My hands?" Kurt lifted his left hand into the air, slowly rotating his wrist. He didn't particularly like his hands – they were worn-looking, rough from use, his knuckles already arthritic on cold mornings because of all the sewing. "What about my hands?"  
  
"No matter how broken I am, they can always put me back together again. _You_ put me back together again. I just – I wish I could feel you touching me, Kurt."  
  
 _Oh_. "And – where exactly would I be touching you?"  
  
" _Everywhere_ ," Blaine whispered, his voice deeper than before.  
  
Kurt sucked in a breath of air. "Blaine? Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Is this what you meant before? When you said you need me to remind you –"  
  
"Yeah. But if you don't want to –"  
  
Kurt chuckled. "I don't think that's the issue here. I miss you. _All of me_ misses you."  
  
" _Kurt_ ," Blaine whispered.  
  
"Get in bed, honey," Kurt soothed. "Put a pillow behind your back, pretend I'm there."  
  
Kurt heard rustling in the background. "Okay," Blaine sighed a few minutes later.  
  
"Just relax. I'm cradling you like I do at home when you're sick. I'm rubbing circles on your stomach and kissing your shoulder and your neck. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, I promise."  
  
He waited a moment and, hearing no sound from Blaine, he continued. "You keep shifting against me and it's driving me crazy," he said, palming himself through his jeans. "I'm sliding my hand under the waistband of your pajama pants and you're hard, too. Are you hard right now, Blaine?"  
  
Blaine inhaled sharply. " _So_ hard."  
  
Kurt reached down with one hand and undid the button on his own jeans, relieving the uncomfortable pressure on his cock. "Are you touching yourself?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It's my hand, touching you," Kurt said, shimmying his briefs down his legs, then wrapping his free hand around his cock, hard and pointing up toward his belly.  
  
"I need to touch you, too," Blaine pleaded.  
  
Kurt moaned, sliding his hand up and down. "You are, baby, right now."  
  
"Kurt … feels so good …"  
  
Kurt let his head roll back onto the pillow, listening to Blaine's soft moans and stroking himself for several long seconds.  
  
"Blaine, do you feel safe, doing this with me over the phone?" he asked after a few moments, trying to control his breathing.  
  
"Of course I do," Blaine gasped.  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
"Because I trust you. I love you, Kurt."  
  
"You love me," Kurt grunted. "And we've been married how long?"  
  
"Six – _ahhh –_ six years."  
  
"And we _will_ be married for how long?"  
  
" _Forever_."  
  
Kurt's hand stopped – his cock was _aching_ with want, but he needed Blaine to hear his next words.  
  
"Then how can this possibly be wrong?" he asked as Blaine gasped in his ear. "If this – loving you, being intimate with you – is going to send me to hell? Then I will go happily, as long as you're there with me."  
  
Kurt heard Blaine's breath stutter and catch. " _Kurt_ ," he said, his words coming out breathless and choppy, "I would go _anywhere_ with you."  
  
"I know. Come on, I can tell you're close," Kurt said, his hand moving down again, his cock twitching at how _wrecked_ Blaine's voice sounded. "Pretend you're fucking me."  
  
"Your mouth," Blaine grunted. "Fucking your mouth." Kurt groaned at those words, his hand moving faster on his own cock. " _Kuuuurt_ ," Blaine moaned one last time, then cried out. The sound nearly made Kurt come on the spot. His hips jerked off the bed into his hand as Blaine's breathing slowly returned to normal, and he gasped as quietly as he could as he came into a wad of tissues pulled from the box on his dresser.  
  
"Oh my god, I feel sixteen again," he giggled once he'd found his voice again. "Did we really just do that?"  
  
"We did,” Blaine said, sounding entirely blissed out. "God, where _are_ you? Did Burt and Carole hear?”  
  
“I’m in my bedroom,” he said. “I don’t think they heard, but I honestly don’t care if they did. As long as you feel at least a little better …”  
  
“I do,” Blaine said, and Kurt could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re the best husband ever.”  
  
"I’m aware," Kurt grinned. "Now – let me sing you to sleep?"

 

* * *

 

Kurt washed his hands and refastened his pants, the sounds of Blaine's moans still ringing in his ears. It hadn’t been good enough – if Kurt had his way, he’d be on a plane bound for South Carolina right now – but it was better than nothing. At least Blaine’s orgasm had made him sleepy. Kurt’s had just made him miss Blaine that much more.  
  
He stormed out of his room and down the steps, not caring about the flush that bloomed high on his cheeks. Nothing could ever top the "incident" during the family beach vacation they'd taken the year they were engaged, anyway – Burt had accidentally walked in on them while Blaine was enthusiastically riding Kurt, and Kurt gasped as Blaine stopped with his hand still wrapped around his dick and rolled them both off the bed into the floor.  
  
Kurt chuckled at the memory – he could _see_ Blaine's face, all shock and horror and maybe just a tiny bit of amusement, but then he remembered how hurt Blaine had sounded on the phone and got angry again.  
  
"What the hell happened?" Burt demanded as he rounded the corner.  
  
"Some _bitch_ conned her five-year-old into going up to Blaine, handing him one of his own books with 'fag' scrawled onto the cover of it in permanent marker and telling him that he's going to burn in hell," Kurt spat out.  
  
Carole's hand flew up to her mouth, and a vein in Burt's neck started to stand out.  
  
"How is he?" Carole asked.  
  
"He’s hurt and disappointed. I’m not even surprised. I _told_ him not to go down there. He never listens. I should be with him right now, but he wouldn’t even entertain the idea of me coming," Kurt said, pacing the floor.   
  
"Blaine’s a grown man – he can handle himself, Kurt."  
  
"Blaine is my _husband_ ," he snarled. "Carole’s a grown woman too. She saves people’s lives for a living; I know she’s seen things more hellish than either one of us have. But if that happened to her, if somebody said something that awful to her, wouldn’t you want to be with her, too?"  
  
Burt’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. "You’ve got a point, kiddo … I'm sorry."  
  
"It’s not your fault, Dad."He threw his hands up in the air. "What are we even doing? We want to bring a _baby_ into this. What are we thinking?"  
  
"Hey," Burt warned, "don't you go where I think you're going."  
  
"Seriously, Dad, how is it fair? Our little girl is going to be taunted and teased and it'll be completely our fault. There's so much _hate_ in the world, why would we expose her to that?"  
  
"When have you ever focused on the hate?" Burt asked. "You always said it was more important to rise above it."  
  
"Yeah, when it's _me_. I can fight back. Blaine can fight back. But a baby? She'll be defenseless – they'll call her anything they want to, they'll talk behind her back, they might even –" he cut himself off, the thought of harm coming to his child making him sick to his stomach.  
  
"Then you teach her," Burt said, getting up in his face, "that they are wrong. That love is _always_ stronger than hate, and that there are way more people in the world who love her than who don't."  
  
"But Dad – on top of all of that, we don't have a clue what we're doing!" Kurt cried, frustrated. "I've never changed a diaper before in my life, and I don't think Blaine has either. I work long hours. I don't know how to interact with kids. I'm critical to a fault. What if – what if _I'm_ the one who hurts her?"  
  
Carole spoke up. "You would never hurt your baby," she said softly. "Not like that."  
  
He looked at her.  
  
"Oh, sure, she'll get mad at you over the years," she continued. "You'll hurt her feelings, you'll make her do her homework and you'll keep her from eating all the cookies in the cookie jar. But Kurt – and you have to be a parent to really understand this – you would never, _ever_ intentionally hurt your child. You would maim anyone who _does_ with your bare hands. Your heart, Blaine's heart – they're so, so big. Please don't give this up just because there are evil people in the world. I'm so looking forward to watching the two of you learn how to be dads."  
  
"Listen to the woman, Kurt," Burt told him gently. "She knows what she's talking about."  
  
"I'm scared," Kurt whispered. Tears glistened in his eyes.  
  
"Of course you're scared," Carole said, guiding him to the couch and putting her arm around his shoulders. "You're supposed to be scared – raising kids is a scary thing. But it's also the most wonderful thing you'll ever do. I wouldn't trade having Finn, or you, or Blaine, even, for anything in this world."  
  
He looked at Burt. "Dad?"  
  
"You learn as you go along," he said. "I'd never changed a diaper before you were born, either. You'll be slow at first, but you get peed on the first couple times and you get faster."  
  
Kurt chuckled, brushing the gathering tears away with his finger. "Do you really think we can do this? That we'll be … adequate parents?"  
  
"You and Blaine are more equipped to raise a child than most of the people I know,” Burt said. “You will be _fine._ The two of you are smart and resourceful and you will love that baby _so much_ , Kurt. And if there's any question about girl stuff – there's always Rachel, right?"  
  
"Oh, _god_ ," Kurt groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Can you even imagine how that conversation would go?"  
  
Burt and Carole laughed loudly, and even Kurt cracked a smile.  
  
"Now, you never really said," Carole said, her face turning serious. "Is Blaine alright?"  
  
"He'll be fine – he's sleeping," Kurt said. Heat rose in his cheeks again when he thought of the reason why. "I should be with him," he repeated.  
  
"You are," Burt said, putting his hand on Kurt's chest, "right here."  
  
Kurt closed his own hand on top of his dad's. "Thanks," he said softly.  
  
"Anytime, kiddo. Now, I think I need another glass of wine after all that. What about you?"  
  
Kurt nodded, closing his eyes as Carole's arm slipped around his shoulders. If he couldn't be with Blaine, this was definitely the next best thing.

 

* * *

 

When Kurt fell into bed later, heady and sleepy from the wine, he quickly tapped out their ritual text message before falling asleep.

 

**To: Sexy McHotpants**

**Goodnight, husband. I love you.**

Just as the sun was rising the next morning, his own phone would buzz with a message of its own.

 

**From: Sexy McHotpants**

**Good morning, husband. I love you, too.**

 

* * *

  
 **Saturday, March 25th, 2023**  
"Blaine, man, you okay? I still can't believe –"  
  
"I don't want to talk about it, Alex," Blaine said, glaring at his literary agent over the island in the continental breakfast bar of the hotel. "I want to do the stupid reading today and get the hell out of here."  
  
"Just hang in there a little longer – we're almost done. One more week, and I'll ship you back to Kurt, I swear," Alex said apologetically.  
  
"I know," Blaine said, sulking over to a table with a plate of rubbery sausage and runny eggs. Kurt would be appalled. He wished that Kurt was _there_ to be appalled. He'd woken up that morning sated and grinning and rolled over to reach for Kurt, only to be disappointed. It was _his_ hand, not Kurt's, that made him gasp and pant and moan the night before. (But, he reminded himself, it was still Kurt's voice that had soothed him into a restful sleep.)  
  
Alex planted himself across from Blaine, opening his syrup container. "So, you still wanna tour the plantation this morning?" he asked around a mouthful of waffle.  
  
"Not really," Blaine grumbled, running his hand through his un-gelled curls. The incident the night before left him more shaken and distrustful of South Carolinians in general than he liked to admit. "I think I'm just gonna go back upstairs and shower and then call Kurt. Maybe he can distract me with baby stuff."  
  
"Yeah, man, how's that going?"  
  
"Hard to say when I haven't been home since the beginning of February," Blaine answered bitterly.  
  
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Alex said, holding his hands up defensively. "Look, there's a tennis court here. I'm probably gonna go hit some balls around later. You're welcome to join if you want, just blow off some steam or something."  
  
Blaine nodded, taking a long swig of his mediocre coffee. "I'm sorry I'm in a pissy mood this morning," he said. "It's just been a long time since somebody's done something that blatantly homophobic to me, and it struck a nerve. I was picturing our little girl at that age, and then she came out with that, and –"  
  
"You don't have to explain. I'll have a racket waiting for you whenever you're ready. Hell, if I could, I'd have pictures of every idiot who's ever done anything to you, just so you can hit 'em right in the face, the fuckers." Blaine snorted as Alex took his empty plate to the trash.

 

He came back and patted Blaine's shoulder. "Look, it'll be a better day today. I'll have security amped up, okay?"  
  
"Thanks, Alex."  
  
Blaine pushed the fake eggs around on his plate, then got out his phone.  
  
 **To: Kurt <3**  
 **I really, really, really miss you. Thanks for last night.**  
  
It buzzed almost immediately with Kurt's reply.  
  
 **From: Kurt <3**  
 **The pleasure was mine ;) I can't wait for you to come home.**  
  
 **From: Kurt <3**  
 **Just one more week, though, and you'll be back in my arms!**  
  
 **To: Kurt <3**  
 **I might die before then.**  
  
 **From: Kurt <3**  
 **Please don't do that. I don't think I can do the single parent thing.**  
  
 **From: Kurt <3**  
 **Are you okay this AM?**  
  
 **To: Kurt <3**  
 **Not really. In a bad mood. Alex wants me to go hit tennis balls later to "blow off some steam."**  
  
 **From: Kurt <3**  
 **I can think of lots better ways to blow off steam than hitting tennis balls.**  
  
Blaine grinned. It was the first smile to cross his face all morning, and he wasn't the least bit surprised that it was Kurt who'd eased it out of him.  
  
 **To: Kurt <3**  
 **I'll bet you can. Care to share later?**  
  
 **From: Kurt <3**  
 **Do you have the internet at your hotel?**  
  
 **To: Kurt <3**  
 **Yeah – why?**  
  
 **From: Kurt <3**  
 **Because, Blaine, Skype.**  
  
Blaine bit back a groan as all the blood in his body pooled in his lap, the night before still fresh on his mind.  
  
 **To: Kurt <3**  
 **OH. Yes. Good.**  
  
 **From: Kurt <3**  
 **Yes, Blaine, good. I love you. Now go hit some balls ;)**  
  
 **To: Kurt <3**  
 **xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**  
  
 **From: Kurt <3**  
 **You sap.**  
  
 **To: Kurt <3**  
 **Don't care. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**  
  
 **From: Kurt <3**  
 **I'm rolling my eyes right now.**  
  
 **To: Kurt <3**  
 **xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**  
  
 **From: Kurt <3**  
 **Goodbye, Blaine.**  
  
Blaine laughed softly to himself as he threw his trash away and headed toward the front lobby.  
  
"May I help you, sir?" the girl at the front desk asked him.  
  
"Yeah," he said. "Where are your tennis courts?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kurt and Blaine have really awesome "Oh my god you're home from your book tour" sex.

**Chapter 6**

**Sunday, April 2 nd, 2023**

Blaine braced his hands on the armrests as the plane made its final descent.

 

"I hate landing," he hissed, and Alex laughed in the seat next to him.

 

"You always say that."

 

"Well, I do. I mean, how _stupid_ would it be to crash this close to the ground? I just – oh God, here we go," he interrupted himself, squeezing his eyes shut as the plane bumped along the runway.

 

"Okay, done," Alex said after they'd come to a stop, squeezing his shoulder. "You can open your eyes now, you big wimp."

 

Blaine rolled his eyes and tried to relax the muscles in his shoulders and unfastened his seatbelt. As soon as it was safe, he bolted up out of the seat, helping the elderly lady in front of him with her bag, then grabbed his own carry-on from the overhead compartment. He was antsy as he walked up the aisle, fidgeting with the handle and his shirt until he'd reached the open space of the airport. He took off for the baggage claim, flying through JFK with Alex trailing behind him, one goal in mind.

 

He stopped short when he caught a glimpse of Kurt leaning up against a large column, one foot propped up against it in a flamingo pose. Blaine let himself gaze for a few seconds, admiring Kurt's casual elegance, the ease with which he took up space now that he had fully grown into his body. _That's my husband_ , he thought, a grin spreading over his face. _And I'm going to take him home with me_.

 

"Kurt!" He started moving forward again just as Alex caught up, and smiled as Kurt's head perked up. Blaine waved, and Kurt caught sight of him, taking off into a run across the length of the baggage claim. Blaine stood still, his arms outstretched, and seconds later, Kurt catapulted himself into them, sealing his lips over Blaine's.

 

"Oh my god, I _missed you_ ," Kurt breathed as he pressed their foreheads together and wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist. "You're never leaving me for that long again."

 

"Deal." Blaine closed his eyes, letting himself bask in Kurt's proximity, breathing deep to smell his cologne. He smelled like heaven. "Take me home?"

 

" _Yes_ ," Kurt murmured.

 

"Whoa, whoa, you guys think we're in a rom-com or something?" Alex asked, walking up to them with his hands on his hips. "I mean, I'm all for some sappy making out in the middle of an airport, but we've got a shit-ton of luggage to get and I'm not carrying all of it myself. You're gonna have to hold off on the reunion sex for at least a little while longer, okay?"

 

* * *

 

"You know we won't be able to do this after the baby's born, right?" Kurt asked, his fingers fumbling as he undid Blaine's belt buckle.

 

"There's always naptime," Blaine said, his voice lilting a little at the end.

 

"God, you're optimistic." Kurt pulled Blaine's zipper down and yanked the front of his jeans open, stroking him through his boxer-briefs.

 

" _Damn_ , you're not playing around, are you?"

 

"I haven't seen you in over a month. What exactly were you expecting?" Kurt growled, mouthing at Blaine's neck as he backed him against the refrigerator.

 

"I don't – _Kurt_ ," Blaine breathed as Kurt dropped to his knees, swatting Romeo away when he tried to come up and lick Blaine's feet. He tugged Blaine's underwear down just far enough to pull his dick out and slid his mouth over the head, swirling his tongue in a lazy circle. "I hope you're not expecting stamina, here," Blaine gasped.

 

Kurt pulled back and looked up for a moment, licking his lips until they were wet and shiny. "I hope _you're_ not expecting just one orgasm tonight." He grinned, satisfied, when Blaine let his head roll back onto the fridge with a loud _thunk_. Kurt leaned forward and licked a long stripe up the underside of Blaine's dick, his right arm reaching up, up, up under Blaine's shirt to tease a peaked nipple.

 

"Hey," he said, his other arm reaching around to pull Blaine's hips closer to his face.

 

"Mmm?"

 

"I love you."

 

Blaine grinned widely. "Love you, too."

 

* * *

 

"We should get up," Blaine said lazily, gazing up at Kurt with half-lidded eyes from the kitchen floor.

 

"Okay, but only if we're going to lay right back down again."

 

"Mmm, I require a bed. I have plans for you, Mr. Anderson-Hummel. And I also need a minute to fully recover from the near-death experience you just put me through."

 

"They call it _la petite morte_ for a reason, you know."

 

"We could just crawl to the bedroom."

 

Kurt looked down, regarding Blaine with a contemplative expression. "I'll race you," he finally said.

 

"Oh, _Kurt_ , we're _old_ , we can't race…"

 

" _I'm_ not old," Kurt said, "And I _can_ race; watch me." He wiggled out from under Blaine and got into position. "Ready … set …"

 

"No, no, I'm not ready!" Blaine exclaimed, rolling over onto his hands and knees.

 

"Go!" Kurt squealed, taking off.

 

Crawling with half-open pants and underwear pulled down around their hips proved to be more difficult than Kurt had originally imagined, and by the time they got out of the kitchen, they were tripping over belt buckles, their pants around their knees. They'd dissolved into giggles when Kurt nearly kicked Blaine in the face, and Blaine tackled him in the hallway, tickling his ribs.

 

"This wasn't a very good race," Kurt giggled, squirming to get out of Blaine's grasp.

 

"No, it wasn't," Blaine said, holding him tighter. "But I don't mind." He leaned down, capturing Kurt's lips in his own, and Kurt stopped squirming and brought his hands up to tangle in Blaine's hair.

 

" _God_ , I missed this," Blaine groaned when they parted. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's chest and pulled him close.

 

"Me too," he murmured. "Maybe next time I can tour with you."

 

Blaine sat back on his heels. "I don't think there's going to be a next time – not for a while, at least. I've been thinking about it, and I'm not planning to tour again until after the baby's a lot older. It wouldn't be fair to you, and I don't want to miss months of our child's life at a time."

 

Kurt blinked at Blaine, then kissed his forehead. "Let's save the serious talk for later, honey. I do believe there are more pressing things to attend to – you said something about a bed?"

 

Blaine chuckled. "I did indeed."

 

* * *

 

"Hello, love, I've missed you," Blaine sighed, grabbing an armful of their linen duvet cover after vaulting himself onto their luxurious king size bed. "Hotel beds have got _nothing_ on you."

 

Kurt laughed and hoisted himself up beside Blaine, pressing kisses into his shoulder blades.

 

"And dildos," Blaine said darkly, "have got nothing on _you_. Although, it was nice of you to leave one with me – that black vibrator helped me through many hours of need."

 

"Mmm, the black one's my _favorite_ ," Kurt murmured into Blaine's warm skin.

 

"I know." Blaine pushed up onto his knees and inched around to face Kurt. "I love you, you know that? Forever."

 

"I love you forever, too," Kurt smiled, glancing over to the portrait hanging above their bed, one of their wedding photos blown up on canvas. Kurt was laughing hard, his eyes squeezed shut and his dimples visible, as Blaine kissed him on the cheek, his chin hooked over Kurt's shoulder. Kurt felt Blaine's gaze shift, looking at the picture as well.

 

"That was a good day," Blaine murmured softly.

 

"The best day."

 

Blaine leaned in, nuzzling his face into the curve of Kurt's neck. "Make love to me," he whispered.

 

Kurt was surprised. "I thought you were going to –"

 

"I changed my mind. I was going to ask you to ride me, but – I don't know, I just…"

 

"You wanted something a little more … emotional?" Kurt asked with an easy smile.

 

Blaine laughed. "Yeah, something like that." He brushed his fingers across Kurt's jawline. "Is that okay?"

 

Kurt smiled. "Of course. Hang on a second …" He leaned over to his nightstand where his iPhone was docked.

 

"You made a playlist," Blaine said. "For sex. When I came home."

 

"Well of course I did," Kurt said. "I wanted some ambiance – especially since I knew it'd be in the middle of the afternoon."

 

Blaine laughed happily as the music started, cupping Kurt's cheeks in his hands when he sat back up. Kurt caught a glimpse of Blaine's wedding band, bright, shiny silver in the afternoon sun, just before Blaine's mouth met his. He licked across Kurt's bottom lip, and they both moaned as his tongue entered Kurt's mouth. They kissed languidly, their hands traveling across the maps of each other's skin, shifting and sighing.

 

"I missed you," Blaine repeated as Kurt's lips traveled over his jaw and down his neck. "I missed this. Kurt, I _love_ you."

 

"I love you too," Kurt said quietly. He wrapped his arms around Blaine's back and slowly tipped him backwards until Blaine's head was resting on a pillow, then kissed down his chest and over his stomach. "I love every single part of you."

 

He slid his fingers underneath the waistband of Blaine's boxer briefs and gently pulled them down his thighs and over his calves, tossing them off the bed. "Too soon, still?" he asked, his fingers teasing over Blaine's balls.

 

"Ah, no, surprisingly I don't think it is," Blaine said as Kurt watched his erection bloom. Kurt shifted back up on the bed and solidly kissed Blaine as he stroked his index finger up the length of Blaine's cock.

 

" _Kurt_ ," Blaine sighed, extending his neck and closing his eyes.

 

After a few more strokes, Kurt felt hands tugging at his underwear, and shimmied his hips until Blaine could work them down his legs. He rolled over to face Blaine and pressed their cocks together, taking them both in his hand.

 

Blaine's hips rolled forward, and huge huffs of air stuttered out of both of them at the sudden friction. Gasps soon gave way to moans until Blaine was nearly begging.

 

"Kurt, _please_ , make love to me, god I want you so bad…"

 

Kurt smiled as he stretched out on his side, his hand snaking in between Blaine's legs. "I've got you," he whispered as he rubbed the pad of his finger against Blaine's hole, mouthing down Blaine's neck as he teased the sensitive skin. "Let me take care of you."

 

" _Kurt_ ," Blaine gasped.

 

Kurt retrieved the new bottle of lube he'd bought the day prior from his nightstand, clicked it open and – nothing came out.

 

" _Babyyyy_ ," Blaine whined as Kurt sighed roughly and took both his hands off of his husband to unscrew the cap and remove the little foil cover. "Couldn't you have done that _yesterday_?"

 

"Hang on; I'm sorry; be patient," Kurt said, fingers fumbling as he rushed to get the cap back on.

 

Blaine reached out his arms and made grabby-hands at him. "Come back."

 

"Okay, okay!" Kurt laughed, drizzling lube over his fingers and stretching back out on his side. "It's really unfair, you know, how adorable you are." Blaine wiggled his hips, and Kurt laughed again and peppered kisses on his cheeks and his nose. Once his fingers found their goal, though, he stopped and stared straight into Blaine's eyes.

 

"I love you, Blaine," he said seriously as he gently pushed inside. Blaine's eyes closed and his head fell back, exposing his neck. Kurt wanted nothing more than to lick bruises into the soft flesh, but he held back and lifted Blaine's head from the pillow again. "Hey, I need you to hear this."

 

Blaine's eyes focused again and he let out a ragged breath and nodded. "Okay."

 

"I know things have been really intense lately, and really hard with you being gone and everything that happened in Charleston …" Kurt said as he slid his finger deeper. Blaine shuddered but stayed still and quiet. "I know things will get even more intense when the baby comes and we have no sleep and we're stressed and tired. But I want you to know," he continued as he began sliding his finger in and out, "that no matter how snappy I get, and no matter how hard any of this is, I couldn't do it without you."

 

"Kurt," Blaine whispered, reaching up to cup Kurt's cheek in his hand.

 

"Marrying you was the best thing I've ever done," he said softly as he added another finger. "The best thing I'll ever do. And God, I'm just – I'm so glad you're home."

 

* * *

 

 Blaine felt like his chest would explode at any minute. He also felt like he might cry, which could _not_ happen because Kurt might not ever let him live it down.

 

He took a deep breath and nearly lost it again when Kurt's fingers grazed his prostate.

 

"Are you okay, honey?" Kurt held his fingers still and tipped his head to one side.

 

He nodded. "It's just – a lot," he managed. Bottoming was an intense emotional experience for him on a _normal_ day – he felt exposed, split open, vulnerable. Kurt could take that and turn it around, could make him feel beautiful and loved and so _full_ , astonishingly, breathtakingly so. But now, with Kurt's sweet words coupled with the fact that he hadn't been home in two months, he felt like he might overflow.

 

"Too much?" Kurt asked, withdrawing his fingers.

 

"Too much, but not enough. Keep going," Blaine said, spreading his knees wider.

 

Kurt did.

 

Flat on his back, Blaine squirmed and balled the sheets in his fists, canting his hips down to force Kurt's fingers deeper inside him. Kurt hovered over him, kissing and licking and nipping at his neck and his chest and his shoulders.

 

" _Jesus_ , you're tight," Kurt whispered in his ear. "This sounds _so_ gay, but you are, like, _delicious_."

 

Blaine laughed, and the tears threatening to spill over dissipated. "Mmm, you are, like, delicious too."

 

"Thank you. Want something even better?"

 

" _Yes_."

 

Kurt pulled Blaine's left leg up into the air, kissing the length of it, and set it on top of his shoulder.

 

" _God_ , Blaine, if I weren't concerned it'd somehow leak onto the Internet and ruin our chances of children and both our careers, I would totally make a sex tape. I wish you could see yourself right now."

 

Blaine laughed again, louder. "We would be _terrible_ porn stars and you know it."

 

"I don't know about that," Kurt said, quickly slicking himself up. "I think it would be a good sex tape. We make excellent noises. Or, you do, at least."

 

A perfect illustration of his point, Blaine groaned low and long as Kurt pressed in slow, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head.

 

" _Shit_ , Blaine." Kurt's torso dipped, stretching Blaine's leg higher, and Kurt braced himself on one arm as his open mouth met Blaine's. Blaine felt fireworks – in his cock, in his ass, in his mouth, in his chest. He was lit up, abuzz with pleasure, _trembling_ with it. It occurred to him that he was moaning into Kurt's mouth. He sounded wrecked, wanton. He didn't care.

 

"You're gorgeous like this," Kurt murmured, thrusting into Blaine slow and deep. Blaine tried not to close his eyes.

 

" _Jesus_ , Kurt …" Blaine shifted his hips just slightly to the right, then gasped. "Right _there_ , baby, _there_ …"

 

Kurt focused all the force in his hips on that one spot as he pitched his hips forward with sharp thrusts, pulling out with slow drags. "There?" he panted, his breaths growing heavier as he increased in speed.

 

Blaine could only nod, his eyes finally closing, drowning in the sensation of Kurt all around him, pushing deep inside him, pressing his leg to his chest, lips and tongue and teeth everywhere. Too much, and not enough.

 

" _Kurt_ , I need … _fuck_." He blindly found the lube, squirted too much in his hand, and started pumping his cock. "Faster – Kurt, can you go faster?" Blaine panted.

 

He didn't have to ask twice. Kurt shifted again, one hand bracing Blaine's hip and another grasping their headboard as he increased his pace, fucking into him hard.

 

" _God_ ," Blaine groaned. He felt contorted, one leg bent up onto his chest, still slung over Kurt's shoulder, the other stretched as far out to the side as he could manage. He was getting a cramp, but the discomfort barely registered – nothing really registered save the feeling of Kurt pounding into him and his own hand flying on his cock.

 

"This good, baby?" Kurt managed to ask.

 

Blaine's head jerked erratically.

 

" _Fuck,_ you feel amazing." Kurt's arm and legs were shaking, and he was gasping for air as he thrust forward, hard and deep. "Come on, Blaine."

 

Blaine's back arched off their bed as he came to the edge and stayed there, crying out each time Kurt's hips snapped forward. "Kurt, please, Kurt-Kurt-Kurt," he babbled. _Still_ too much and not enough. And then Kurt bent in half, folding himself over and scraping his teeth over Blaine's exposed nipple, and _God_ Blaine had never been more thankful for yoga in his life. His eyes rolled back in his head as he thrust into his hand and coated his stomach and Kurt's chest and neck and chin with pearly fluid.

 

In his orgasmic, dreamy haze, he heard Kurt let out a mindless stream of words somewhere in the background – " _Fuck-Blaine-God-fucking-hell-fuck_ ," felt Kurt jolt into him, hips stuttering forward, then heard a cry and found that it was hard to breathe. It dawned on him as lights were flashing behind his eyes that Kurt was laying boneless on his chest.

 

"Roll – over," Blaine gasped, poking him in the arm.

 

Kurt managed to flop onto the bed beside him and Blaine sucked in air as he turned on his side, curling into Kurt's chest, both of them still wet with come.

 

They lay there catching their collective breath, both of them panting like they'd just run a marathon. Blaine's heart was _thud-thud-thudding_ hard in his chest.

 

" _I like my body when it is with your body_ ," Blaine finally whispered worshipfully, still trembling. " _It is so quite a new thing_."

 

Kurt clasped the back of Blaine's head, pulling him close. Their legs tangled together, and Blaine sighed as Kurt pressed a kiss to the top of his head. " _Muscles better and nerves more. I like your body. I like its hows_ ," he recited back to Blaine.

 

" _I like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling-firm-smooth ness and which I will again and again and again kiss_ ," Blaine said, punctuating the words with real kisses as he spoke, the poetry his scripture for the sacrament of intimacy.

 

"Your kisses are always welcome," Kurt said, "Again and again and again."

 

"I missed you," Blaine said softly.

 

"I missed you too. Shower?" Kurt asked, turning his head to eye the mess streaked across their chests.

 

"We can shower later. I need to be close to you right now." Blaine wiped most of the come on his and Kurt's chests off with their sheet. "See? There. No more mess."

 

Kurt made a face. "There's come in your hair, Blaine."

 

Blaine's eyes widened and his hand flew to his head. Sure enough, his hand was wet when he pulled away. He shrugged. "It'll wash out – 's what shampoo is for, right?"

 

"Well I'm not sure if, when they formulated the Bumble and Bumble men's line, that's exactly –"

 

"Kurt. Please?"

 

Kurt's gaze softened as he looked at Blaine. "Yeah, honey, of course that's what shampoo is for. You okay?"

 

"I'm sorry, I just need to be a little needy right now," Blaine said as he tucked his head back to Kurt's chest.

 

"I don't ever want you to apologize for needing me. You are _always_ allowed to need me," Kurt insisted firmly. His voice dropped to a whisper. " _I like kissing this and that of you, I like slowly stroking the shocking fuzz of your electric fur and what-is-it comes over parting flesh…_ "

 

"Let's stay in bed all day," Blaine said after cutting Kurt off with a thorough kiss.

 

"Actually, I'd like nothing better," Kurt smiled. "I really don't know if I could get up if I wanted to – I'm gonna be sore for the rest of the day."

 

" _You're_ gonna be sore …" Blaine grinned, flexing his leg back and forth. His hip popped loudly each time he stretched his leg all the way out. "Listen to that!"

 

"Oh my god, did I do that to you?" Kurt asked, a little horrified.

 

"I think I'm just old," Blaine said. " _We're_ old, Kurt."

 

Kurt's expression turned. "Not _too_ old, though, right? We can't be getting to old for sex already. God …"

 

"Never too old for sex. _Never_. We'll still be getting it on in the nursing home, creaky hips and all," Blaine promised, his eyes shining brightly.

 

"Good. Because I don't think I'll ever get enough of you," Kurt smiled, stroking across Blaine's cheek with his fingertips. "You and your big love-crumb eyes."

 

"I love it when you speak my language," Blaine said, low and fierce as the flame in his heart burning always and only for Kurt flared brightly. "C'mere."

 

They attached again in the middle of the bed, sticky and messy and Blaine didn't care a bit, his heart tangled up with all the rest of them. He knew he'd probably regret it later when they'd have to peel themselves apart, wincing at pulled hair and reddened skin, but in that moment, everything was perfect, even his aching hip.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kurt and Blaine talk names and watch another ultrasound, Abby gets hormonal, and an adoption plan is formed.

**Chapter 7  
**

**Thursday, April 6th, 2023**  
"Micah, everybody's staring at me," Abby whispered, her hand on her belly as they walked through the Columbia University bookstore.

 

"Just 'cause you're so pretty," he whispered back, squeezing her hand.

 

"No, Micah, not 'cause I'm _pretty_ ," she snapped. "It's because I'm a pregnant teenager. I'm a _statistic_. I don't belong here."

 

Micah tugged her out of the bookstore and onto the busy sidewalk. "You belong wherever you _say_ you belong, Abby," he said harshly. She shrunk back, and he sighed, rubbing his neck. "Look, this is hard. I don't know what I'm doing anymore than you do. But this is what you want, right?"

 

"I don't know what I want," she mumbled, looking at the ground.

 

"Abby, your eyes lit up when we got to campus. I _saw_ them," Micah said. "You've been wanting to come here since you knew what Columbia _was_. Having a baby doesn't have to change that."

 

"Babies change everything," she said, stumbling as a passer-by in a hurry bumped into her.

 

Micah caught her shoulders and led her back inside the bookstore into a quiet corner. "You're right, babies do change stuff. Which is why Kurt and Blaine are gonna adopt her, right? You're making me nervous here, Abby."

 

"I'm sorry." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, you're right. I'm just hormonal. Or – I'm kind of hungry. Maybe that's it – can we get something to eat?"

 

"Of course we can," Micah said, cupping her face and kissing her forehead. "It's gonna be okay, you know that, right? Everything's gonna work out fine."

 

"You're right. I know. It's just – it's harder, the more she moves around. I can just feel her all the time – but you're right. God – can we just go get a burger or a slice of pizza or something? Maybe I'll stop acting like such a bitch …"

 

"You aren't acting like a bitch." He paused. "Abby – it'll all be worth it. We'll get to go to college, and then you'll go to med school and be this _awesome_ doctor and I'll get to be an architect. We're doing the right thing."

 

"You're right," she said, nodding her head. "Of course you're right. Of course I'm excited. I mean – college, right? It'll be awesome."

 

"It'll be _so_ awesome." Micah squeezed her hand again. "Come on, let's go get you and the baby something to eat."

 

 

* * *

**Sunday, April 23rd, 2023**

Blaine popped a strawberry in his mouth as he leaned back against Kurt's chest, watching tulips sway back and forth in the breeze.

 

"This is the perfect day," Kurt sighed, and Blaine smiled, feeling the vibrations of Kurt's voice against his back. He felt so _alive_ and _invigorated_ , and oh god, the sun. He'd worried for a while that they'd never see the sun again.

 

"Mmmm," he rumbled, low and long, wondering if Kurt could feel it against his skin. "I've been dying for warm weather."

 

Kurt hooked his chin over Blaine's shoulder. "I know. You've been whining about it for a month and a half now."

 

It was true. He had. "I just get so _tired_ of winter. But this totally makes up for all the cold and snow and yuck."

 

Kurt fished the bag of baby carrots out of the picnic basket next to him and began munching on them. "We should probably start thinking about names," he said thoughtfully in between bites.

 

"Confession?"

 

"…Yeah?"

 

"I've had names flying through my head since we found out she's a girl."

 

"Oh, I'm so glad I'm not the only one," Kurt said in a breath. "I just hope we're not on total opposite sides of the name spectrum – which ones have you been thinking about?"

 

Blaine sat up and wiggled around to face Kurt, biting into another strawberry. "Well," he said, a bit of juice running down his chin, "I'm pretty attached to Myrtle. But if you pushed, I'd be okay with Judith, Alma, or Betty. They're family names."

 

Kurt gaped at him. "Please, tell me you're joking.

 

"Why? …Aren't any of those okay with you?" Blaine didn't bat an eye, but on the inside he was already giggling.

 

"Blaine, if you try to name our baby _Myrtle_? I will strangle you in your sleep."

 

"Well, what about Alma, then?" Kurt glowered, and Blaine's straight face broke as he snickered into his hand. "You didn't actually believe –"

 

"I never can tell with you," Kurt said, smacking him on the arm. "Here, you've got a little –" He reached out, wiping the juice from Blaine's chin with his thumb

 

"Thanks."

 

Kurt nodded. "Now, what were you _actually_ thinking?"

 

"I like Olivia and Sophia, but I'd want to call her Sophie," Blaine grinned. "And I like Emma or Ella. You?"

 

Kurt smiled. "Don't laugh …"

 

"I would never." Blaine looked into Kurt's eyes, clear as the sky today, so he'd know he was serious.

 

"Well … I really like flower names."

 

"Flower names? What, like Petunia?" Blaine asked, wrinkling his nose.

 

"Not _Petunia_ ," Kurt said. "Rose. Lily. Violet. _Pretty_ flower names, Blaine."

 

He cocked his head. "I think I like that, actually. All of those."

 

"Really?"

 

"Yeah. We should wait till we see her to pick, though." The thought of it – _seeing_ his baby, not on a ultrasound screen but in real life – made him want to dance and cry and sing and turn cartwheels on the grass.

 

He settled for a few claps of his hands, which made Kurt smile.

 

"Just eleven weeks left." Kurt pulled out his phone and tapped the screen twice. "The app says she weighs almost four pounds and is about 16 inches long this week. She has toenails, fingernails, and hair. And – Blaine, she sucks on her fingers already!"

 

Blaine grinned. "I can't wait to meet her."

 

Kurt leaned back on his elbows. "What are you most looking forward to?"

 

"Reading to her," Blaine answered without hesitation, tucking his knees under his chin. It was his favorite thing to think about before going to sleep. "And telling her stories. We'll go on all sorts of adventures before bedtime – maybe we'll even let you come along sometimes."

 

"Charmed, I'm sure," Kurt smirked.

 

"What about you? What are you excited about?"

 

"Everything, I think," Kurt said, his voice dreamy. "Bathtime. When she learns to laugh. Shopping with her, when she's older. Introducing her to music. I just – I'm so – I don’t even know, Blaine. We're gonna be _dads_." Kurt's voice grew thick and Blaine inched closer to him as he sat up straighter.

 

"It'll be the hardest, best, funniest, saddest, happiest, most exhausting thing that's ever happened to either one of us," Blaine said, leaning in close. "And I'm so glad it's you. I couldn't imagine doing anything like this with anybody else." He stared into Kurt's eyes for a shared silent moment and saw tears welling up and threatening to spill over.

 

"God, what is _wrong_ with us?" Kurt laughed, breaking his gaze and wiping the lone tear that had run down his cheek off with the back of his hand. "We're crying in the middle of the park. People can _see._ "

 

"Correction: _you're_ crying in the middle of the park."

 

"Bullshit. Your eyelashes are wet."

 

"They are _not_ ," Blaine said, swiping his fingers over his eyes anyway. Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Oh, _fine_ , you win."

 

Kurt's grin lit up his whole face, and he wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes deviously. "Ooooh, baby, I'm so sorry – I know what it does to you when I _win_ …"

 

"Oh my god, every time I say anything about you winning –"

 

"You know it's truuuuue!" Kurt sang. He took a carrot from the bag and wrapped his lips around it, slowly pushing it into his mouth.

 

"You're an evil, evil man, you know that?"

 

"Mmmm, I know."

 

"And I somehow manage to love you anyway."

 

"Well, thank god for that," Kurt said, leaning in to peck Blaine on the cheek.

 

* * *

 

 **Wednesday, May 3rd, 2023**  
"Oh my god, look at her," Kurt whispered, clutching Blaine's hand tightly.

 

Their baby bobbed before them on a golden-colored screen, and Kurt thought that he should probably have been totally freaked out, because really it was a lot like watching an alien in a weird liquid-filled holding cell, but all he could think was how _beautiful_ she was. And maybe that was what being a parent was about, suspending reality because your child is _better_ than reality.

 

This baby was better than reality, for sure.

 

All of a sudden, in a weird jerky movement, the baby's hand moved over her face and when the image cleared, her thumb was in her mouth.

 

"Oh my god – Micah, are you watching this? She's sucking her _thumb_!" Abby laughed, her hand flying up to her mouth.

 

"Hold still, honey," the ultrasound tech smiled as the wand twisted and jumped with Abby's jiggling belly, making scary-looking distorted craters in the image of the baby. Micah sat at Abby's head, stroking her hair.

 

Blaine hadn't said anything, so Kurt looked up to make sure he was still with them, and _oh._ Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he was grinning ear to ear, not even trying to stop them. "She's perfect," he finally murmured.

 

Abby beamed at them from the bed.

 

"She looks like you," Kurt told her, unable to keep his eyes on anything but his child for very long, and yep, it had already happened. Hook, line and sinker.

 

"You think so?" Abby asked, gazing at the baby, still sucking on her fingers.

 

"I do," Kurt smiled. "Look – she's got your nose."

 

They sat, the four of them, silent and awestruck and reverent and giddy over her, this beautiful life that brought them together, and Kurt kept holding onto Blaine's hand and tried not to cry.

  
"Thank you, _so_ much, for letting us come with you," Blaine said, swiping his forearm over his eyes, trying to brush the tears away after the ultrasound was done and Abby's belly was wiped clean. "You guys have been so great about letting us see stuff –"

 

"Well, you're gonna be raising her," Micah said. "I mean – it's kind of only fair that you get to see it too."

 

"I'm sorry your mom couldn't come," Kurt said.

 

Abby sighed. "I think she doesn't want to get attached to the baby," she said. "She keeps telling me that she doesn't want to sway my decision, that Micah and I need to do what's best for us. She thinks that if she's too involved, it'll be too hard to let her go."

 

Blaine gave Kurt a wary glance, and Kurt squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I'm sure that _would_ be hard," he said. "But it's good that she supports what you want, right?"

 

"Yeah, totally. She's been great the entire time," Abby said, smiling softly as she looked back on the screen.

 

"Hey," Blaine said gently, and Kurt could tell that he was sensing a dip in Abby's mood. "You guys feel up for some ice cream when we get out of here? Our treat?"

 

"Oh, you guys totally don't have to do that –" Micah started, but Kurt interrupted.

 

"No, we want to," Kurt said. "Come on, isn't there supposed to be something about pregnant women craving ice cream all the time?"

 

"Well," Abby said, looking a little hesitant, "some mint chocolate chip does sound pretty good …"

 

* * *

  
"Do you know what you're naming her yet?" Abby asked, placated for the moment with her double-scoop waffle bowl of mint chocolate chip.

 

"Not yet," Blaine said, stealing a lick off Kurt's cone. "We have possibilities – _ahh_!" he screeched as Kurt took his own cone out of his hand.

 

"All's fair in love, war and ice cream," Kurt grinned, taking a giant bite of Blaine's top scoop of peanut butter ice cream before handing it back. Blaine pouted, but inside he was beaming – he _loved_ this Kurt, this uninhibited version of his husband that only unleashed itself when Kurt was extraordinarily happy or extraordinarily turned on. It was stupid, he should've known it would happen, but it made Blaine _incandescently_ thrilled to realize that seeing their baby would bring it out as well.

 

Since Blaine was too busy mooning over Kurt, Kurt spoke for the both of them. "As Blaine was saying, we have possibilities, but we really want to wait until we meet her for the first time. We kind of want her name to match her personality."

 

"Cool," Micah said, grinning at Abby. "I kind of can't wait to see what she's like in real life."

 

"Watch out," Abby warned Kurt and Blaine, gesturing with her ice cream cone. "If she's anything like Micah, she'll be totally dorky and sit in the front row in calculus class and doodle in her notebooks all the time. And she might develop an obnoxious obsession with Meryl Streep."

 

"Hey! Meryl Streep is awesome!" Micah protested.

 

"Meryl Streep is ancient," Abby retorted.

 

"Meryl Streep is one of the best actresses to ever grace the silver screen. If the man's got to have an obsession, she's a worthy one to have," Kurt said, shaking his head at Abby.

 

Micah rolled his eyes. " _Thank you_ ," he said pointedly to Kurt and Blaine. "And speaking of watching out … if the baby's anything like _Abby_ , she'll take five years to do her hair in the mornings," he teased. "And she'll really, really, _really_ love mint chocolate chip ice cream and the color _aubergine_ , whatever that is –"

 

"Eggplant," Kurt supplied.

 

"– and she'll always want to sleep till noon and even though you know she's lying, she'll always complain about how much she hates her mo–" Micah cut himself off with a croak, clearly realizing a few too many beats late what was about to come out of his mouth. "Um," he said lamely.

 

An awkward silence came over the table until Kurt announced, "I'm going to go get some water."

 

He rose from the table and Blaine scrambled to follow him. "Water. Yes. Good, I'm thirsty, too."

 

They walked to the counter, not far enough away to be out of earshot, but hopefully far enough to give Abby and Micah a moment of privacy.

 

"Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

 

"Micah? Don't," they heard Abby say.

 

"But I –"

 

"You're probably right," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "She probably _will_ hate me, and it won't be a lie."

 

"But why would she hate you?" Micah asked. "You're _wonderful_ , Abby."

 

"Because I'm giving her _away_ ," she hissed. "Because I don't _want_ her."

 

"But that's not true –"

 

"Do you think _she'll_ know that? All _she'll_ know is that I put what I want over what she needs."

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine saw her push her chair away from the table and look pointedly away from Micah, her arms crossed over her chest. He gave Kurt a look full of trepidation, and Kurt sighed heavily, took his hand, and led him back to the table.

 

"I think I'm ready to go," Abby told them before they could sit down, her cone still over half-full.

 

"Are you sure?" Kurt asked gently. "We can –"

 

"I'm sure," she snapped. It was the last thing she said all evening.

 

* * *

  
"She's going to back out," Blaine said as soon as they'd parted ways with Abby and Micah on the subway platform. "She's going to keep the baby."

 

Kurt sighed, tugging Blaine to his chest in a quick but tight hug. "She's not, honey. We have an appointment in two and a half weeks to make the adoption plan – she's not backing out. I'm sure she's hormonal, and her idiot boyfriend had to put his foot in his mouth, which did _not_ help …"

 

"I know, I know, she just seems so _off_ to me lately."

 

"Blaine, honey? I'm not trying to be condescending, but we don't really _know_ her. I mean, you remember Rachel's epic temper tantrums, and she wasn't ever even pregnant. I'm sure it's just a hormone thing – plus, there is a _living creature_ inside of her. I think I might get a little testy at times, too."

 

Their train roared up to the station and they stepped on together, Blaine clutching Kurt's hand like a scared child.

 

"I don't know. I just have a really bad feeling," Blaine said. "I don't think – Kurt, what if we _lose_ her?"

 

Kurt took a deep breath, his heart clenching at the thought. "Then we deal with it if it happens," he said evenly. "We've been through hell before and lived through it, both of us. But seriously, I don't think we have to worry."

 

As the final word left his mouth, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

**From: Abby**   
**Sorry I was so catty tonight – hormones are a bitch. We still on for the 22nd?**

 

Kurt showed Blaine the message, planting a kiss on his temple. "See?" he said. "Nothing to worry about."

 

* * *

  
 **Monday, May 22nd, 2023**  
"I should've brought a jacket," Kurt whispered to Blaine, rubbing his upper arms where goosebumps had popped up. "I had no idea it would be this cold in here."

 

They were sitting in the familiar conference room with Abby, Micah, Holly and Karen, and David Powell, one of the lawyers they'd met with when they first started their adoption paperwork. Karen was shuffling through an accordion folder and speaking in a low voice with the lawyer, and Abby's head was resting on Micah's shoulder.

 

Blaine rolled his chair closer to Kurt's and shrugged off his cardigan. "Here," he said, holding it out. "You can wear this."

 

"Blaine, it doesn't –"

 

"Either you wear it or you stay cold, but no complaining about how it doesn't match," Blaine chastised. "I'm being nice."

 

Kurt shot him an annoyed look, but took the sweater. "You won't be cold?" he asked.

 

"Nah, I'm fine," Blaine replied, crossing his arms across his chest. "Go ahead."

 

"Okay, are we ready?" Karen asked, looking up from her papers.

 

Blaine and Kurt both sat up in attention, and Kurt quickly stuffed his arms into the sleeves.

 

"Alright, we're all here to draw up a post-adoption contract between Abby Roberts and Micah O'Neal and Kurt and Blaine Anderson-Hummel. Is that correct?" Mr. Powell asked.

 

Blaine's and Kurt's heads both bobbed up and down.

 

"And are you all of the understanding that this is just a preliminary agreement, and that nothing can be signed today? You'll sign this along with signing over parental rights after the baby is born," he continued.

 

More bobbing of heads.

 

"Excellent. I'll let Abby and Micah go first – just state your terms and Kurt and Blaine can agree or not."

 

Abby clutched Micah's hand on top of the table and pushed her bangs out of her eyes five times in succession with her other hand. "Um. Okay. Well …"

 

"Please don't be nervous, Abby," Kurt said, trying to still his own bouncing knees. "All of this – everything we're doing – is in the best interests of the baby. That's it. Obviously, yes, we want her and we want to raise her, but we're more than happy to be flexible about just about everything."

 

"See?" her mom said quietly, nudging her shoulder. "I told you."

 

Kurt watched her take a deep breath, shoring herself up for what she was about to say. "Okay. Right. Um – so, I guess starting with her birth? I don't know what you guys were expecting, but I kind of want it to be just me and my mom and Micah. Like, during labor and her delivery and stuff. I – um, I'm really scared about that part, and I think –"

 

"Abby? It's okay," Blaine said. "We weren't expecting to be there for it. That's something that _you_ need to share with Micah and the baby."

 

Abby nodded nervously. "Okay. Um. God, this is embarrassing – um, I kind of want to nurse her? Just while we're in the hospital? Because – I know she'll have to get formula when she goes home with you and I know that colostrum is the most important stuff anyway, and I want to be able to at least give that to her. I want to do right by her, you know? I mean, I'm giving her away already – the least I can do is give her this –"

 

"Oh Abby, of _course_ ," Kurt said, feeling entirely helpless to comfort the poor girl. Now _her_ knees were bouncing, so hard that the entire table was shaking. "That's something that only you can give her. We'd never want to take that away from either one of you."

 

She nodded shakily, and Micah sighed. "Will you guys excuse us for just a minute?" he asked, standing and tugging on her hand. Abby's mom shot a worried look at him, but he just shook his head. "I got it, Mrs. Roberts."

 

He guided her out the door into the hall, and Kurt sat in awkward silence with Blaine, feeling like the gazes of Karen, Mr. Powell, and Mrs. Roberts were boring into his forehead. The young couple returned a few minutes later, and Abby's eyes were red-rimmed.

 

"I'm sorry," she babbled, sitting down. "I just – hormones, you know? They make you crazy. I'm just stressed, I guess?"

 

"It's okay," Blaine said earnestly, giving her a look that melted Kurt's heart. "We know this isn't easy for you. Do you feel like finishing today?"

 

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm sorry," she repeated. "Okay. So, I'd love for you guys to come and see her after she's born, but I'd like for her to stay in my room until we go home. And then –" she turned to Karen. "I know the agency has a policy that the baby usually goes to like an interim family?"

 

Karen nodded. "Yes, typically that's the case."

 

"What if I wanted her to go straight home with Kurt and Blaine? Can you do that? I just hate for her to be moved around so much, and they've been waiting so long for her – would that be possible?"

 

Karen hesitated. "Yes, we make exceptions in some cases. If that's what you'd like to do, we can make that happen."

 

"Okay, so after she's home with them, I know you guys said you wanted a couple months before we see her," Micah continued. "But – we were hoping for like maybe an email once a week? With a picture? Just to see how she's doing. I think – it'll be hard for Abby, after the baby's living with you …"

 

"We can definitely do that," Kurt said.

 

"So after that, like, pictures at least maybe once a month?" Abby said, brushing her bangs back again. "And an update? And – I don't know how often we'll want to see her – I mean, I'll want to see her all the time, but I don't know how often is healthy or what will work for you guys or what..."

 

Kurt looked at Mr. Powell. "Can that be determined later? Does everything have to be set in stone right now?" he asked.

 

"No, you can use whatever amount of flexibility that you want," he answered.

 

"Okay, then, why don't we see how things go for the first several months?" Blaine suggested. "We'll be in contact with you – we can just talk about it and see what you guys feel comfortable with. Is that okay?"

 

Micah and Abby agreed that Blaine's plan was the best course of action to take, and the lawyer flipped through his notes. "Anything else?"

 

"Can we give you pictures of us?" Abby asked. "I want her to know what we looked like when we were little and stuff."

 

"Sure," Kurt said. "I was going to ask about that anyway – I'd like to put together a scrapbook for her of you guys and your families, so when she gets older and wants to look at where she came from, we'll be able to show her."

 

Abby blinked rapidly, and grabbed one of the tissues that Karen offered her. "That would be fantastic," she sniffled. "You guys – we're so lucky to have you …"

 

"Any other requests?" Mr. Powell asked, making a note on his legal pad.

 

"None that I can think of now," Micah said.

 

"We just want to be part of her life," Abby added, sounding a little desperate.

 

"Of course," Karen said, patting her hand. "That's what we're here for – to give her the most fulfilling family experience we can. So, if nothing else changes, I guess we'll all see each other again when the baby comes!"

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, May 27 th, 2023**

" _Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you_ ," Kurt could hear Blaine singing as a crack of light appeared in their bedroom door. " _Happy birthday to-the-best-husband-in-the-wooooorld, happy birthday to you_."

 

Kurt blinked his eyes open and smiled softly at the image before him, a very sleepy Blaine standing in the doorway, holding a tray loaded with piping-hot muffins, a glass of orange juice, and a vase brimming with tiger lilies.

 

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt said fondly.

 

"Happy Birthday, Kurt," Blaine told him, setting the tray on Kurt's nightstand and bending to give him a sweet kiss. "I wanted to do something special – it's the last birthday either of us will have before we become parents."

 

"This is so sweet," Kurt said, scooting up in the bed and reaching over to finger one of the flower petals. "They're beautiful! What kind of muffins are these?"

 

"Cranberry-orange," Blaine said proudly. "I got up extra-early to bake them myself."

 

Kurt beamed. "Come here, get back in bed with me," he said, patting the empty space next to him. "I want to eat them while they're warm."

 

Blaine climbed in next to him, grabbing a muffin as he went. "I don't want you to lift a single finger today," he said, tearing a little piece of muffin off. "For anything." He held the warm, fluffy muffin to Kurt's lips, and Kurt parted them, the sweet, warm confection almost melting on his tongue. He sighed, delighted.

 

"You are too much. What other surprises have you got planned today, hmm?"

 

"Oh, you'll see – you _are_ turning thirty after all …"

 

"Ugh, don't remind me," Kurt said, making a face.

 

"Hey, don't feel too bad. I'll be right behind you this fall."

 

"When did we get so old, Blaine?"

 

"I don't know – they say you're only as old as you feel," he said, popping more muffin in Kurt's awaiting mouth. "How old do you feel?"

 

"A lot younger than either of us will feel in a month or so," Kurt said, smiling.

 

"Mmm, that's true," Blaine said, taking a bite of muffin himself. "Do you know we've spent nearly half our lives together?"

 

Kurt nodded solemnly. "And I've felt every _second_ of it." Blaine gasped in mock-offense, his hands going straight to Kurt's ribs, tickling him.

 

"I'm not stopping till you take it back!" he exclaimed as Kurt shrieked his laughter.

 

"Fine, fine, stop! I take it back!" Kurt's eyes were shining as Blaine rolled them over and held himself up, hovering over Kurt's chest.

 

"I can't wait to be a dad with you," he murmured softly.

 

"Mmm, me either." Kurt pulled Blaine in for a sweet kiss. "I love you so much."

 

"To the moon and back," Blaine whispered against his lips, pulling their bodies flush together.

 

The muffins were cold on the platter before either Kurt or Blaine gave them another thought.

 

* * *

 

 **Wednesday, May 31st, 2023**  
"So Blaaaaine," Kurt drawled out as he plated their breakfast: egg white, spinach and swiss omelets and field greens with homemade vinegarette.

 

"Mmm?" Blaine asked, blinking still-sleepy eyes as he came up behind Kurt, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist and nuzzling his scruffy face into Kurt’s neck.

 

"Abby's 37 weeks today."

 

"Mmm?" Blaine repeated.

 

"According to the What to Expect book, that's technically considered full-term. Which means she could go into labor at any time. Which means we could have a _baby_ at any time, Blaine, and we've still not gotten the nursery ready…"

 

"I know, I know, I'll order the crib today while you're at work," Blaine groaned, carding a hand through his messy bed-head. " _Today_ , Kurt, I promise."

 

"And the glider?"

 

"And the glider."

 

"And paint?"

 

"And paint."

 

"Good," Kurt said, gliding over to their tiny kitchen table. "Because it just wouldn't do to put the baby in a dresser drawer or something awful like that."

 

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I'm sure we'd figure something out. She could technically sleep in the Pack-n-Play if worse comes to worst."

 

Kurt looked aghast. "No daughter of _mine_ is sleeping in a playpen, understood?"

 

"Yes, yes, understood," Blaine said.

 

"Excellent. _And_ we're having everything overnighted, right? No ifs, ands, or buts?"

 

"No ifs, ands, or buts, I promise."

* * *

 

"Can you remind me why this was a good idea, painting the room tonight?" Blaine asked, slipping on the plastic that covered the floor and nearly falling against the still-wet wall. The sound of Romeo barking filled the background – he'd been sequestered in the bathroom and was vocalizing his chagrin. Loudly.

 

"We have to be prepared, Blaine! What if Abby goes into labor?" Kurt asked, gesticulating wildly with his Misty Lilac-covered paint roller.

 

"Are you sure _you're_ not the one nesting, here? Where'd all this 'we have to do everything right now' stuff come from?"

 

Kurt sighed. "I don't know. I just – can't wait any longer, I guess. I want everything to be perfect for her."

 

"It will be," Blaine promised, dipping his roller in the paint and going at the wall again. After a few minutes, though, he looked out the window into the lit-up darkness and sighed, "Do you think we really need two coats? I'm getting tired …"

 

" _Blaine._ "

 

"Okay, okay, wishful thinking," he said, holding his free hand up in surrender, swiping the roller in big "v" strokes. They painted in silence for a while, Romeo's barks subsiding to pitiful whines, until Kurt piped up again.

 

"Oh, did I tell you Carole called?"

 

"No, what about? Is your dad okay?"

 

Kurt laughed. "Yeah, Dad's fine – but apparently Rachel called Carole wanting to plan a big baby shower shindig after the baby comes home. I think she managed to talk her out of the huge party that Rachel initially wanted, but …"

 

"It's still Rachel," Blaine finished for him. "Noted."

 

"It could be fun," Kurt said hopefully. "Although I'll have to threaten her within an inch of her life not to make things overly dramatic with Finn. He never really has gotten over her."

 

"I know." Blaine let his head thump against the wall out of both fatigue and vexation toward Finn's lingering crush. "…Shit."

 

Kurt stared in horror for a second, then clapped a hand over his mouth to hide his snickers.

 

"Ohhhh, no," Blaine said, coming toward him. "This is not my fault, you don't get to laugh. _You_ coerced me into painting when I was tired, _you_ talked about Rachel and Finn, it's _your_ fault I have purple all over my face."

 

"Blaine …" Kurt warned as his husband's smile turned wicked.

 

"You're only getting what's coming to you, baby," Blaine said, finding a spark of energy. He grinned as he dragged his roller from the top of Kurt's head, down the side of his face, to the hem of his old McKinley gym t-shirt.

 

Kurt gasped, sputtering, then dipped both hands in the paint bucket and placed them on either side of Blaine's face, giving him a deep, hard kiss. Blaine broke away laughing, rubbed the paint from his face onto his hand, then palmed Kurt's crotch through his old gym shorts.

 

"You!" Kurt shrieked, grabbing his own roller. He chased Blaine around the room, and by the time they were done, collapsed in a laughing heap on the paint-spotted plastic, they were both covered in large streaks and splotches of Misty Lilac.

 

"You know we've got another coat to go," Kurt said, slightly out of breath. Blaine looked at the walls, and much to his dismay, Kurt was right. The pale purple was no match for the bright color of blue that they'd painted their work room when they'd bought the condo four years prior.

 

He looked down at his paint-covered t-shirt. "The next time we paint a room? We're hiring somebody to do it for us."

 

"Lazy," Kurt teased, groaning as he pushed himself up off the hardwood floor. "Come on, sweet cheeks," he said, extending a paint-covered hand for Blaine. "Let's get back to work."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Abby goes into labor.

**Chapter 8**

 

**Saturday, June 17 th, 2023**

Abby clutched Micah's hand and bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, trying to stay quiet as the movie played on. _One-Mississippi-two-Mississippi-three-Mississippi-four-Mississippi-five-Mississippi_ …

 

"You okay, baby? Maybe a chick flick wasn't the best idea for tonight," Micah hesitantly whispered, kissing her forehead.

 

"I'm fine," she whispered back, loosening the vice grip she'd had on Micah's fingers. "I'm sorry –"

 

" _Shhh_!" An angry whisper sounded behind them. She sighed and rested her head on Micah's shoulder. _In through your nose, out through your mouth._

_Twelve-Mississippi-thirteen-Mississippi-fourteen-Mississippi …_

 

Twenty minutes, and beads of sweat were popping up on her forehead, her breath no longer coming so easy. Reluctantly, she leaned close to Micah's ear. "Promise me you won't freak out," she murmured.

 

"Freak out about what?" he whispered back.

 

"I think I need to go to the hospital."

 

Micah sprang back from her as if she'd branded him. " _What_?"

 

"Shh, baby, the hospital," she whispered. "We should probably go soo- _oooof_ ," she trailed off as another contraction hit, her abdomen pulling taut under her shirt. _In through your nose, out through your mouth_.

 

" _Shhhhhh_!" the guy behind them hissed, more insistently than before.

 

Abby dropped her voice even lower, trying to talk through it. "I've been having contractions on and off all day, and I thought they were just – _oooohhh_ – Braxton-Hicks, but I've been timing them since the movie started and –" she broke off, huffing and puffing. Micah sat beside her, still as a statue, terror in his eyes. "And they're almost five minutes apart now. They don't last for thirty seconds like the doctor said, but they're getting there…" she said when the pain finally abated.

 

"Oh, _shit_ ," Micah said, not even bothering to lower his voice. "Abby, why didn't you –"

 

"I wanted one more night with you before my life goes to hell," she hissed. "Now let's go."

 

Micah gaped at her for a moment, then sprang to action. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," he babbled as he fumbling around, grabbing drinks and empty bags of popcorn, slinging Abby's purse over his shoulder. "Oh my god. I don't – Abby – what do we –"

 

" _Will you keep it down_?" the guy behind them said, huffing in annoyance as Micah stood up.

 

"Micah?" Abby threatened, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the row of seats, trying not to trip. She could hear her purse flopping against his side as they went, and it might've been funny if she wasn't _hurting_ so goddamn bad. "You cannot freak out on me right now. I can't do this by myself."

 

"Okay, I know. I'm sorry. But _God_ , Abby, you could've given me a little warning," he snapped. "You should have told me, we would've stayed home …"

 

"That's exactly why I _didn't_ tell you," she said, her voice breaking a little as she tugged him into the light of the lobby. "In about 8 hours or something – and god, I hope it's less than that – my life is going to fall apart. I just wanted one last date, one last night of normal before _this_ throws it all to hell." She gestured to her swollen belly angrily as they rushed into the warm evening air.

 

"Did your water break in the theater?" Micah blurted out as soon as they were outside.

 

"No. Not yet, thank god," she said, cringing at the thought. "Oh my god, I would be _mortified_ …"

 

"Okay. Okay. Oh, God," Micah said, taking several deep breaths. His face was white. This was _not_ what she needed right now. "Okay, we need to –"

 

" _Shit_ ," Abby cursed, cutting him off. Her uterus, her back, her torso, her entire _body_ spasmed tight, completely out of her control, as she grabbed for the brick wall of the movie theater. "Oh my _God_ that hurts." _In through your nose, out through your – oh, fuck it, just try not to fall over._

 

"Abby?" Micah asked, his voice trembling. "I – I don't know if I'm ready for this …"

 

She laughed drily. "And I _am_? I don't think we have much of a choice here, Micah."

 

"I know. I know. Oh, god, I 'm so sorry Abby – I just – I don't know what to _do_ ," Micah whined helplessly, pacing back and forth in front of her.

 

"Look," she said, sinking against the wall once the pain had ended, "I'm gonna be fine, people have babies all the time, but I cannot – I _cannot_ do this by myself. I _can't_ Micah," she continued as her voice broke again, tears burning her eyes, "and I know this is scary, but you need to get your shit together and be here for me, because even though you're scared, you don't have to push a _baby_ out of you in the next several hours."

 

"I know. I'm sorry, come here," he said, reaching out for her, and she let herself be wrapped in his arms.

 

"Will you call Blaine and Kurt and let them know?" she asked, her voice muffled in his shoulder. "I want to call my mom."

 

* * *

 

"God, this stupid _collar_ ," Kurt mumbled to himself. He was stretched out on the couch, legs thrown over Blaine's lap, sketching designs while Blaine read.

 

"What's the problem with it?" Blaine asked, setting his book down and raising his eyebrows at the pile of wadded-up paper on the coffee table.

 

"I don't know, I just can't get it right. If I knew what the problem was, I'd have fixed it already, honey," he said, a little exasperated.

 

"Maybe you should take a break. Rest your eyes or something. I could read to you, if you wanted," Blaine suggested, squeezing Kurt's foot affectionately.

 

Kurt frowned. "Blaine, I'm never going to get this finished if you keep making me take breaks …"

 

Blaine's phone suddenly buzzed loudly on the table behind Kurt, waking Romeo from the nap he was taking at Blaine's feet. The puppy blinked his sleepy eyes and stretched his paws out low to the ground. "You can at least take a break long enough to answer the phone," Blaine grinned, reaching down to pet Romeo's fluffy white fur.

 

"It's _your_ phone."

 

"But you're closer, and I'm stuck underneath you," Blaine whined.

 

"Oh, fine. Hello?" Kurt asked as he picked up the phone.

 

"Kurt? I thought I called Blaine – anyway, oh my god, it's happening. I'm freaking out over here, you've gotta tell me what I'm supposed to do –"

 

"Whoa, whoa, hang on a second," Kurt said, swinging up into a sitting position. "Who is this? Is this Micah?"

 

Blaine dropped his book on the floor, narrowly missing Romeo's head, and the puppy hopped up onto the couch with them.

 

"Dude, sorry, yeah, oh my god, Abby's been having contractions all day but she didn't tell me till we were halfway through the movie and she said something about timing and she's talking to her mom now and we're about to go to the hospital – _shit_ –"

 

"Hey, calm down," Kurt said.

 

"Okay, okay – wait, what?" he said, and Kurt heard muffled whispers on the other end of the phone.

 

"Micah?" he asked, shooing a panic-stricken Blaine away.

 

"Um. Uh, Abby's water just broke," Micah said, sounding terrified. "She's – ew, her legs are all wet and gross – dude, what the fuck am I supposed to _do_ here – it should be you guys here, not me –"

 

"Micah? _Calm down_ ," Kurt repeated. "It's going to be fine. _You're_ going to be fine. Abby needs you right now, not us. You said you're at the movie theater?"

 

"Yeah," Micah said, his voice shaking.

 

"Okay, hang on just a second –" Kurt took the phone from his ear, tilted his head back and whispered, _Fuck_.

 

"What-what-what?" Blaine was demanding, bouncing beside him on the couch like a nervous kangaroo.

 

"Abby's in labor, and her water just broke at a movie theater. Now hang _on_ while I handle this, okay?" Kurt snapped, bringing the phone back to his ear. _Focus, Kurt_. "Okay, Micah?"

 

"Uh-huh?"

 

"Find someplace for her to sit. Go back inside, go to the bathroom, get some wet paper towels. Help her clean up. Can you do that?" Kurt asked.

 

"Yeah. Okay. Yeah, hang on." Kurt heard a clatter, and assumed that Micah had set the phone down. He put the phone on speaker and turned to Blaine, who was holding Romeo in his lap, eyes wide.

 

"Kurt, the baby's coming. The _baby's_ coming," he said, his voice panicked.

 

"No shit, honey – but I'm trying not to freak out right now because Micah's doing enough of that for all of us, so just give me a minute, yeah?"

 

Blaine nodded, his eyes wide.

 

"Okay," Micah's voice rang back over the phone. "She's clean, sort of. She's also crying. I just – I'm kind of at a loss here."

 

"She's probably scared, Micah," Kurt said as gently as he could. "I know I would be. Just get her to the hospital. Take a cab, not the subway – she probably can't handle the stairs. You need to get off the phone with me so you can take care of her, okay? Text me or Blaine when you get there and let us know what's going on."

 

"Okay. Okay. Right. Dude – uh, congrats, I guess. You're gonna be a dad soon," Micah said, the hint of a smile evident in his voice.

 

"Thanks," Kurt smiled. "Good luck. And send Abby our love."

 

He hung up the phone and looked at Blaine.

 

"Kurt. Kurt-Kurt-Kurt, we're having a _baby_!" Blaine exclaimed, his face nearly split in two with the force of his smile.

 

Kurt grabbed a throw pillow, held it over his face and _squealed_ , leaning back and kicking his feet in the air. Blaine laughed loud and set the puppy on the floor. He grabbed the pillow with one hand and the back of Kurt's head with the other and pulled him in for a searing kiss.

 

"What was that for?" Kurt's voice came out high and breathy when Blaine finally let him go.

 

"I just love you," Blaine answered simply. Kurt blushed – why was he _blushing_? He'd been hearing that for twelve _years_ – and hopped up from the couch, gliding into the nursery.

 

Blaine silently walked in behind him, and Kurt leaned back into his chest as Blaine slid his arms around Kurt's waist.

 

"God, I can't wait to rock her," Kurt said, gazing over at the lavender glider tucked into the corner.

 

"I know," Blaine breathed. "I can't quite wrap my brain around the fact that there'll be a baby in here in a couple days." They stood pressed together, quiet for a long moment. "We should probably call your family," Blaine finally said.

 

"Can we wait just a little while longer?" Kurt asked, running his hands over Blaine’s fingers, which were still threaded together at his waist.

 

"Sure – why?"

 

"I don't know. I just want to _be_ here for a little bit, with you. We're on the verge of this incredible thing, and I'm just not ready to share it with anybody yet."

 

Blaine regarded Kurt fondly. "We'll wait as long as you want to."

 

* * *

 

**Sunday, June 18 th, 2023**

The texts came at three A.M., the simultaneous beeps of both their phones jarring them from the doze they'd fallen into on the couch.

 

They both got the same picture of a tiny baby swaddled in hospital blankets, a pink and blue striped hat on her head, eyes closed and lips pursed.

 

**From: Abby**

**It's a girl! 6lbs, 2 oz, 19 ½ inches long, born at 2:27 AM. Congrats, dads, she's perfect :)**

 

They sat, shoulders and arms and thighs touching, and _stared_.

 

"Champagne?" Blaine croaked when he'd found his voice again.

 

"I don't know if alcohol will make me cry more or less right now," Kurt laughed, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "But yes, regardless. We should celebrate."

 

" _Celebrate we will, 'cause life is short but sweet for certain_ ," Blaine sang before wrapping his arms around Kurt and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'll get a bucket of ice."

 

* * *

 

The expensive bottle of champagne was empty by four o'clock.

 

"Blaine, the _neighbors_ ," Kurt giggled from the couch as Blaine sat at the piano, banging out a messy version of an old ABBA song.

 

" _I heard about you before, I wanted to know some more, and now I know what they mean, you're a love machiiiiiine_ ," Blaine growled, and Kurt shimmied his shoulders and crooked his forefinger at his husband, motioning him to the couch.

 

"C'mere, honey-honey," he said with a grin.

 

Blaine danced his way over to his husband and plopped down on the couch beside him with a loud _thud_. "Hi," he grinned.

 

"Hi yourself."

 

Blaine stretched out on the couch and tucked his head in Kurt's lap, his face buried in Kurt's stomach. " _I uff oo_ ," he mumbled into Kurt's t-shirt.

 

"I uff oo, too," Kurt chuckled, threading his fingers through Blaine's hair. He was silent for a few minutes, just stroking Blaine's head, listening to his content sighs.

 

"She hasn't signed the papers yet, you know," he finally said, breaking the silence.

 

"Kurt …"

 

"She hasn't," he repeated. "I just hope we're not celebrating too early."

 

"No. No, no, no, don't get all fatalistic, don't ruin this for me," Blaine said, rolling over to look straight up at Kurt's face.

 

"Not _fatal_ istic, _real_ istic," Kurt said. "I'm not trying to rain on your parade. I'm just saying – this could end badly."

 

"It's not gonna end badly, Kurt," Blaine said, reaching up to cup Kurt's cheeks in his hands. " Abby called us 'dads' in the text message – it's gonna be fine. Just be happy with me? Please?"

 

"Okay." Kurt sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry. It's just that everything is too good right now. The bough has to break at some point, right?"

 

Blaine sat up, blinking as the room seemed to tip a little to the side. "No. It doesn't. Not everything in our lives has to end badly …" Blaine paused. "Look, Kurt, I don't want to fight with you tonight."

 

"I don't want to fight with you either," Kurt said, looking down at his lap. His voice was small and soft.

 

"Can we chalk this all up to too much champagne and go lay down and try to sleep for the rest of the morning?" Blaine asked. Kurt nodded, still refusing to look at him. "Okay, good. Hey, chin up."

 

Kurt lifted his head.

 

"No matter _what_ happens – whether we bring her home or not – I love you, okay? _You_ are the most important person in my life, and that isn't going to change, baby, no baby, whatever. I told you in our wedding vows that I was in this for better or for worse, Kurt, and I meant that."

 

"Stop it. You're making me cry," Kurt said, swatting Blaine's arm, then leaning into his side. "I'm sorry. I just – got scared. I _am_ scared."

 

"So am I, baby," Blaine murmured, tugging him close. "I'm just trying to hope for the best.

 

Kurt nodded solemnly. "I know you are. Time for bed?"

 

"Time for bed."

 

* * *

 

"She's so _beautiful_ ," Abby whispered reverently as she held her baby, tears streaming down her cheeks, blurring her vision. "Micah, we _made_ that. _Us_."

 

"She looks just like you," he whispered, blinking fast. "Abby, seriously – she's like your little clone."

 

She laughed through her tears, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as the IV tubing dragged along her cheek. "Stop it – you're making me cry harder."

 

"Abby, honey?" her mom said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "The lactation nurse is here – do you want to try to nurse now?"

 

Abby looked up at her mother with wide eyes. "Yeah – yes, _please_."

 

"Okay, I'll let her in."

 

Soon the baby was latched and suckling away as Abby sobbed, cradling her daughter to her chest.

 

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Micah said, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder.

 

"Micah, how am I supposed to let her go?" she hiccupped, pressing a kiss to her baby's head.

 

"I –" he started, then stopped, tugging his hand through his hair. "I don't know. But we have to, Abby. It's gonna be ok. We'll still get to see her and –"

 

"It's not enough. It won't be _enough_ ," she cried, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.

 

" _Shhh_ , sweetie," her mom soothed, perching on the side of the bed and rubbing smooth circles into her back. "We can talk about your options, but you've been planning for this for a long time, now. I don't want you to make any rash decisions just because you're tired and your hormones are fluctuating, okay?"

 

A flare of anger rose in Abby's chest, but she fought it down. "O-okay," she said, choking on the word.

 

"She's all yours for a couple days. Try to enjoy her as much as you can now, sweetie."

 

Abby nodded, taking a deep breath. She gazed down at the baby, who'd fallen asleep on her chest. "I think – maybe I should try to go to sleep?" she said, taking the tissue that Micah handed her. "I am pretty tired."

 

"I don't doubt it – you just went through eight hours of labor, Abby," her mom said. "Want me to put her back in her crib?"

 

"I'll do it," Micah said quickly, and Abby looked up at him.

 

"Okay," she said softly, lifting her child off of her chest and handing her to him. He clumsily wrapped a blanket back around her and carried her to her crib. Within seconds, she'd squirmed out of her covers, working her hands up to her mouth.

 

"Micah, honey, come here," Abby's mom said. "I'll show you how to wrap her up tight." Micah returned to the bed after they were done, curling up next to Abby.

 

"You're a good mom, you know," he said softly as Abby's mom turned out the lights.

 

"A good mom? Really, Micah? I'm giving her away and I don't even know her _name_ ," Abby whispered angrily, flipping over and tugging the covers up to her chin. "I'm going to sleep."

 

The last thing she heard before she surrendered to her dreams was her mother's gentle whisper, half-reciting and half-singing a long-forgotten lullaby.

 

" _Sleep my child and peace attend thee all through the night …_ "

 

* * *

 

**Monday, June 19 th, 2023**

"Kurt. Kurt-Kurt-Kurt, wake up, wake up!"

 

" _Blggghhh_ ," Kurt said, his tongue sticking to the roof of his too-dry mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to blink. He felt like he'd been knocked out with a metal pole, then he remembered – too much champagne always gave him a horrible headache. "Blaine?" he tried again, confused that his husband was awake and he was not.

 

"Text from Abby. She wants us to come to the hospital," Blaine said, and Kurt rolled to his side of the bed, only to find it already vacant. He blinked again, looking up to see Blaine hopping on one foot as he tugged the other into a pair of jeans.

 

"God, my _head_ ," Kurt groaned as he dragged himself upright in the bed.

 

"Got that covered – there's some Motrin and a glass of water on your nightstand."

 

"You're a saint. Remind me why I had that fourth glass last night?"

 

"I think that may have been my doing," Blaine said apologetically as he pushed his arms into a t-shirt and pulled it over his head. "You're staring," he smirked, and Kurt shook his head, trying to clear it.

 

"Yeah. Happens sometimes. Your hair, you know?"

 

"Oh shit, do I have bedhead?" Blaine asked, darting into their bathroom to look in the mirror.

 

"It's morning, Blaine, you always have bedhead." Kurt took the three Motrin tablets laid out for him, swallowing them one by one, and smiled at the little stack of crackers Blaine had set out for him as well. Painkillers did a number on his stomach if he took them without eating.

 

"Thanks for the crackers, honey," he said, rubbing his eyes as he padded into the bathroom behind Blaine.

 

"Mmm," Blaine murmured in reply, trying to tame his hair. "I figured we could stop for coffee on the way. Oh, and your dad's called this morning already – I texted him and told him we'd call him after we got home."

 

"'Kay," Kurt said, shedding his sleep shorts and turning on the faucet in the shower.

 

"Kurt! We don't have time for showers!"

 

"I always have time for a shower, Blaine. I'm not meeting my daughter for the first time smelling like morning funk and puppy."

 

Blaine's brow furrowed. "Do I smell like that?

 

"Probably."

 

"Dammit, Kurt," Blaine huffed, but he peeled off the t-shirt he'd just put on and shed his jeans and boxer briefs. "Only the _bare minimum_ moisturizing routine, though, okay?" he bargained, testing the water with his forearm.

 

"Deal."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kurt and Blaine meet their baby for the first time, Abby's heart breaks and Burt, Carole and Finn come to New York for a visit

**Chapter 9**

 

**Monday, June 19 th, 2023**

Blaine took a deep breath as he and Kurt stood outside room LDR 12. He was juggling a coffee carrier and a box of petit fours, and Kurt had their camera case slung over one shoulder.

 

"Well … here we go."

 

"Here we go," Kurt repeated nervously, knocking on the door with his free hand.

 

"Come in!" they heard someone call, and he eased open the door.

 

"Hey, Abby! We come bearing coffee and pastries," Kurt sang, and her eyes lit up.

 

"Oh my god, you guys are my _heroes_!Mom and Micah went to lunch, and they've been gone a while – let me at the caffeine," she said, making grabby-hands in Blaine's direction. He laughed and set his load on the one table in the room.

 

"We got iced, since it's so hot outside already," he explained. "There are options – there's an iced mocha, an iced French vanilla latte, and iced caramel latte, and an iced café Americano. Take your pick."

 

"Mocha," she said quickly. "Mocha-mocha-mocha and is there chocolate in that other box?"

 

"I thought the cravings were supposed to end once the baby was born," he teased good-naturedly, opening the petit fours.

 

"Speaking of the baby …" Kurt said, craning his neck to look in the crib on the other side of the bed.

 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed after taking a gulp of her drink. "I almost forgot – how could I forget?" She set her coffee down and leaned over to the crib. "Come here, sweetheart," she cooed, cradling the baby in her arms. "Come see your dads."

 

Blaine and Kurt inched forward, hands clasped together.

 

" _Please_ tell me that you guys are naming her today, because it's killing me not knowing what to call her …" Abby trailed off, a hint of desperation in her voice.

 

"Well, we'd like to," Kurt said, then gasped as he caught a glimpse of the baby. " _Oh my god_ ," he whispered reverently, "Can I –"

 

She nodded. "Here," she said, holding the baby out to him. Blaine could see tears in her eyes, but it didn't really register as he watched Kurt with their baby girl.

 

He gawked at them, awestruck at the first sight of Kurt as not just a husband but a _dad_ , his fingers tingling to reach out and take, but no, this was Kurt's moment and he could have his own in due time. Kurt walked over to the vinyl couch, perching on the edge of the seat, and unwrapped the pink blanket. The baby immediately drew her knees up and brought her hands to her mouth, sucking on her finger and scrunching her nose up. Kurt fingered the fuzzy pink socks on her feet and pulled the just-too-big hat off her head revealing wispy, soft dark brown hair.

 

Kurt looked up at Abby. "I think she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, a tear dripping down one cheek.

 

Abby seemed unable to hold her own tears back. She nodded, a hand covering her mouth, and blinked rapidly. "I know," she said, her voice thick. "She's perfect."

 

Blaine's feet carried him forward of their own volition. "Kurt –"

 

"Here," he said, "Here, honey, here, take her. You have to see …"

 

Blaine did see. He stared, fascinated with her long eyelashes and soft skin and rosebud lips. And then she opened her eyes, and big gray-blue orbs stared back at them, blinking in the light.

 

"Kurt." Blaine looked up. " _Abby_."

 

"I know," she said, not even trying to hide her tears anymore. "I _know_."

 

* * *

 

Abby could feel herself going crazy.

 

Her baby was crying and someone else was holding her. _(Her parents were holding her.)_

 

Her arms, her fingers, her chest ached with the sound of it – she wanted to reach out and comfort; that's what moms _do_. _(Her parents were_ already _comforting her.)_

 

Her baby. _(Their baby.)_

 

 _You can still change your mind_ , a small voice whispered in the back of her head, immediately countered by a more insistent _No. You can't. You promised. You'd break their hearts._

 

Abby felt like she might throw up.

 

"Abby? Are you okay?"

 

She opened her eyes. "I'm fine. I'm sorry, it's just – it's hard, you know?" she said, her voice cracking. "But I'm fine."

 

She could tell by Blaine's expression that he didn't quite believe her, and added "acting lessons" to the long to-do list she'd started in hopes of making herself too busy to feel the loss of her _(their)_ child. 

 

* * *

 

"Okay. Names. God, I can't stop staring at her," Blaine said after a while, a stupid grin plastered his face. He'd been a dad for all of twenty minutes – technically he wasn't even a dad yet – and already it was the happiest he'd ever been, ever. Already he could barely remember life before this precious tiny thing. Oh, how he loved her. He _loved_ her. She'd not even been alive for a day yet and she'd rocked his entire world; how was it even possible?

 

"Names," Kurt agreed, his head resting on Blaine's shoulder. "Would you like a say in this?" he asked Abby, who was looking restless in bed, wringing her hands together. "You can have one, you know."

 

She looked taken aback. "N-no," she stammered, surprised. "No, she's yours. I mean – she's – she'll be yours."

 

"She's also yours," Blaine reminded her gently. "Always. We'll never take that away from you – you'll always be her mom."

 

Abby nodded, blinking back the tears that never seemed to stop flowing. "Thank you," she said softly. "But, no – I – you can pick. But – maybe I can have veto power? If I hate it?" Her eyes widened at her own words. "No- not that I would hate it; I'm sure it'll be perfect –"

 

"Abby?" Blaine said, passing the baby to Kurt. He walked over to her hospital bed, feeling very much like he was approaching a wounded animal. "It's okay for this to be hard. And –" he paused, searching for the right words. "It's okay if you're mad at us, or whatever else you might be feeling – it's all okay."

 

"No, I could never – of course I'm not mad at you!" The words tumbled out of her mouth easily, but Blaine could see her hands clenched in the sheets.

 

"Okay – but if you are, we understand. Do you – would you like us to call Karen? Do you need to talk to her about anything, or one of the counselors from the agency?"

 

"No!" Abby exclaimed, too loud, too forceful. "No – I'm fine. Just – will you guys please just give her a name?"

 

Blaine sighed and rubbed his fingers over his forehead. "Of course we will."

 

He turned, giving Kurt a worried look on his short trek back to the couch.

 

Kurt unwrapped her from the blanket again, this time holding her out in his lap so they could see her better.

 

"She's so pretty," he murmured as Blaine leaned into his side.

 

"Kind of like a flower?" Blaine hinted.

 

Kurt beamed at him. "Thank you," he said just as the door swung open and Micah and Holly walked in.

 

"Oh, hey guys! I didn't know you were here!" Micah said, dropping a kiss on Abby's cheek before flopping beside them on the couch. "She's kind of awesome, isn't she?"

 

"Abby, or the baby?" Kurt asked.

 

"Both," Micah said decidedly.

 

"Mmm, good answer, honey," Holly said from the other side of the room. "What's this?" she asked, gesturing to the box on the table.

 

"Oh, we brought coffee and petit fours – you're welcome to them, although the coffee might be a bit watered-down by now," Kurt answered.

 

"Thank you – we didn't mean to be gone so long, but I got distracted and wanted to pick up a few more things for her to wear while she's here in the hospital – I hope that's not overstepping," Abby's mom said.

 

"Of course not," Blaine said.

 

"Well, either way, I couldn't help myself – look," she said, digging through one of her bags and holding up a lightweight cotton sleeper, white with tiny red rosebuds printed on it, and red booties to match.

 

Blaine and Kurt cooed at it, and Abby grinned. "Thanks, Mom," she said, reaching to give her a hug. "Kurt and Blaine were just about to name her."

 

"Oh …" Holly breathed, her hand moving over her mouth. "I'm so glad we could make it back in time." She perched on Abby's bed with her, wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulders and taking a bite of one of the petit fours.

 

A nervous tingle ran down Blaine's back and arms – they hadn't talked about doing this with an audience. But when he gazed at Kurt, at the baby, he felt grounded, and tried to remind himself that all the people in the room, Abby, Micah, and Holly included, were part of a new kind of family. There was no reason to be nervous.

 

"Okay, so – you said you liked Rose and Lily and Violet, yeah?" Blaine asked.

 

"She doesn't look like a Lily to me for some reason," Kurt said. "But – Violet. That – I like that, I think."

 

"Violet," Blaine repeated, rolling the name around in his mouth. He tipped his head to one side. "Violet?"

 

The baby opened her eyes and looked at him.

 

Well, Blaine was sure she didn't _actually_ look at him, because he'd read in the _What to Expect_ book that newborn babies can't really see more than about eight inches in front of their face, but she turned her head. And that was enough.

 

"Violet," Kurt whispered.

 

The corners of Blaine's mouth turned up as he reached his hand out for her, placing his finger in the palm of her hand, and she gripped it tightly. "Vi."

 

Kurt looked up, and Blaine could tell he was staving off tears. "Abby? What do you think?"

 

"It's perfect," she said, clinging to her mom, clutching a tissue in her hand. "Are you – is she gonna have a middle name?"

 

"Yeah," Kurt said, turning back to Blaine. "One of yours."

 

"Olivia," Blaine said. "It's the only one that fits. Violet Olivia – how does that sound?" he asked the baby.

 

"Oh, that's beautiful," Holly said, pressing a kiss to Abby's head.

 

"Micah?" Blaine said.

 

The boy was staring, awestruck at the baby in Kurt's arms. "Yeah," he said, his voice thick. "Yeah. Vi- … yeah, that's good with me, man."

 

"Well, then, I guess that's settled," Kurt said, carefully wrapping the blanket back around her.

 

An awkward silence followed, and Blaine broke it by standing. "Well – I guess we'll leave you guys with her for now. Just – um – the paperwork? I guess – Karen will call us when you're ready to sign everything?"

 

Abby nodded. "I was planning on doing it tomorrow morning, before we get discharged," she said softly.

 

"Whenever you're ready," Kurt said firmly. "Thank you for letting us see her today."

 

"She's yours," Abby said with a shrug.

 

"Abby –" Blaine said, stopping himself from sounding exasperated. He took a deep breath and tried to make his voice gentler. "She isn't ours until you say she is."

 

Abby's eyes met his, tears threatening to spill over again. "She's been yours since the day we met you."

 

* * *

 

**Tuesday, June 20 th, 2023**

The next afternoon, it was done. Abby signed a stack of papers that she could barely see for her tears, Micah right behind her, and Violet Olivia became the child of Kurt and Blaine.

 

Abby cried as she dressed the baby. She cried as she placed her in the infant carrier that Kurt and Blaine had brought, cried as she carefully strapped her in. She cried in the wheelchair as they all rode down the elevator, and Kurt and Blaine cried with her as she stood and placed the carrier in Blaine's waiting arms.

 

"We'll send pictures," Kurt promised, rifling through the diaper bag on his shoulder to produce a travel-sized pack of Kleenexes. "We'll email you and let you know that she's okay – I _promise_ , we will love her and take care of her and –"

 

"Stop," Abby said almost viciously, grabbing the tissue from his hand. "You're just making it worse."

 

"I'm sorry," Kurt whispered. "Do – do you not want the emails?"

 

"Of course I want the damn emails," she said, angrily wiping her eyes. "But you don't have to keep badgering me, I _know_ –"

 

"That's enough, Abby," Holly spoke up from behind her, soft but firm. "Let's go home."

 

"Okay. Home. Okay," she repeated. Her eyes darted up to Kurt and Blaine's worried faces. "I'm sorry," she said helplessly, "This is harder than I thought it'd be. I – I'm not sure what home is without her. You'll send the pictures, right?"

 

"Of course we will," Blaine said gently.

 

"Okay," she said, glued to the spot. Micah stepped in front of her, held her cheeks in his hands.

 

"Abby, you trust me, yeah?" he said. She nodded pitifully. "Then trust me when I say that this is going to be okay. I know this is like super intense right now and you have crazy hormones swimming around from just having her. But we've been talking about this for months now, and we like them and they'll take good care of her. We just – we have to get through this first part."

 

"I know," she whispered.

 

"But the only way we're gonna be able to do that is if we go home. We can't stand here forever, and neither can Kurt and Blaine."

 

"Okay," she whispered again. She walked past Micah, straight to her baby, bent, and gave her a kiss. "I love you," she said, soft but fierce. "I love you, I love you, I love you, and I wish I could take you home, but I can't –" Her voice caught, and she stopped and tried again. "I can't. But Kurt and Blaine can. And they love you too." She stopped again, her mouth unable to form the words she wanted to say. "Bye, Violet," she eventually managed, bursting into tears as she walked back to Micah.

 

Her mom hailed a cab and as it drove away, she couldn't help feeling that she'd never get her heart back again.

 

* * *

 

"Kurt?" Blaine asked once they were home, safe and sound, Violet still sleeping in her carrier on the kitchen table.

 

"Hmm?"

 

"What the hell do we do now?"

 

"I have no idea."

 

* * *

 

**Thursday, June 22 nd, 2023**

" _Ooomph_ ," Kurt grunted, nearly knocked to the ground with the force of the impact of his overly excited, overly tall brother running to hug him at baggage claim.

 

"It's so good to see you, little bro – it's been forever!" Finn exclaimed, squeezing all the air out of Kurt's lungs. "I can't believe you're a dad."

 

"I won't be one for much longer if you keep stealing my oxygen," Kurt gasped, smacking him repeatedly on the back.

 

"Oh. Sorry – I was just happy to see you."

 

"It's okay," Kurt said, smiling. "It's good to see you, too."

 

"You look good, kid – have you guys been getting any sleep?" Burt appeared at Finn's side, accompanied by Carole, and wrapped Kurt up in a fond hug.

 

"Thanks, Dad," Kurt said, pressing his face into his father's shoulder for a moment. "We've been doing alright – we're taking shifts. It's only been two days, but so far we've both managed to get at least like five hours at a time."

 

"Oh, that's not bad at all," Carole said. "I was up every two hours with Finn when he first came home."

 

"Yeah, she's been a really good baby," Kurt grinned.

 

"What's the puppy think of her?" Finn asked.

 

"I think he'll be fine," Kurt said. "He's a little jealous – he whines a little more than normal, but he seems to like her. He brought her a toy the other day while she was sitting in her carrier – it was adorable."

 

Carole cooed at the thought, pressing her hand to her chest.

 

"You guys wanna get this show on the road?" Burt asked. "I've got a grandbaby that I'm kinda itching to see."

 

"Yeah, we should probably go – I'm afraid Blaine might be freaking out right now. This is the first time either of us has kept her by ourselves, and we still haven't quite figured out what to do with her yet."

 

"Just love her, honey," Carole said, patting him affectionately on the arm. "The rest will take care of itself."

 

* * *

 

"Kurt." Burt gripped his son's arm as they walked inside, hard enough for a little zing of fear to course through Kurt's veins.

 

"Dad?"

 

" _Kurt_ ," Burt repeated, choking back a sob.

 

Blaine sat on the couch grinning proudly, holding their daughter as he softly hummed the melody of _Lavender Blue_. "Hey, guys," he said, interrupting himself. "Somebody wants to meet you."

 

Kurt smiled and went to him, bending to drop a kiss on his cheek and another on the top of Violet's head. "May I?" he asked.

 

Blaine acquiesced, and Kurt took the little bundle of baby and blankets to his family. "This," he said, unable to keep from beaming, "is Violet."

 

Burt took her first, his hands shaking. "It's been a while since I've done this," he said in a thick voice, but soon cradled her close. His eyes shone with tears as he murmured something to her that no one could hear, and then handed her to Carole and wrapped Kurt in a tight bear hug.

 

"I have never been so happy for you or so proud of you," he said. "I never thought –"

 

"It's okay, Dad, you can say it," Kurt said gently once he'd been released from Burt's death-grip. "You never thought I'd have this. You never thought you'd get to see my wedding; you never thought you'd have a grandchild. It's okay. I didn't either. But that was before him."

 

Both their gazes turned toward Blaine, still sitting on the couch, uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny while Carole and Finn cooed over the baby in the background.

 

"C'mere, kid," Burt said, his voice still thick, and gave his son-in-law an equally tight hug when he stood up. "Blaine, if I could ever make you understand all you've done –"

 

"All I've ever done," Blaine interrupted, "was love your son the best way I know how. He saved me too, you know. So did you."

 

Burt's hand came up to grip the back of Blaine's neck, and he squeezed tight and pressed their foreheads together. "I'm sorry I had to. I'm sorry your parents aren't here for this."

 

"I'm glad you _are_."

 

Burt gave him one last squeeze and cleared his throat gruffly. "Now, what do you boys need? Finn, you wanna help me blow up the air mattress?"

 

* * *

 

"I still think you and Carole would be more comfortable in our bed," Kurt grumbled later that night in the crowded living room. They were all piled wherever they could find a seat, talking and snacking on the hummus and crudités that Blaine had whipped together while Kurt was meeting his family at the airport.

 

"That's been settled, Kurt," Burt said, not even looking at him. "Now hush, I'm playing with my grandbaby."

 

"She doesn't … do much yet, does she?" Finn observed from the floor, cocking his head to one side while he watched his niece squirm in Burt's lap.

 

"Such astute observations, Finn. Genius, really," Kurt said drily. Finn threw a throw pillow at him.

 

"She does plenty," Blaine said, teasing Romeo with a carrot, showing Carole how they'd taught him to beg.

 

Finn shot him a dubious look.

 

"She does!" Blaine insisted. "She's already got these adorable little habits – like, she always sits with her feet crossed, like she's trying to be all prim and proper. She's doing it now, see?"

 

Finn glanced over to Burt's lap again and, sure enough, Violet's dainty socked feet were primly crossed over each other. "Huh," he said.

 

"That's not all, though," Kurt chimed in. "She has this look – I don't know whether it's gas, or whether she's stretching or what, but she'll kind of roll her eyes up and raise her eyebrows just a little –"

 

"– And it ends up looking like a perfect impression of the Kurt Hummel Bitch-face," Blaine finished for him with a grin. "It's the _best_ thing; I laughed so hard when she did it the first time."

 

" _And_ she always keeps her hands tucked right over her cheeks, just like she did in her ultrasounds," Kurt added.

 

"And sometimes she sneezes," Blaine said dreamily, gazing over at his daughter, "and I swear it's the cutest sound I've ever heard."

 

Carole laughed. "I think you boys are smitten. First girl either of you have ever fallen for, and you sure have fallen hard."

 

"Well it would be hard not to," Kurt clucked, hopping out of the chair and stealing the baby from Burt's lap, "when she's just _so damn adorable_!" He held his daughter at eye level, bouncing her gently, and grinned at her.

 

"You'd better watch yourself, baby," Blaine warned from the couch. "She spit up in my _mouth_ when I was doing that yesterday morning …"

 

"Yes, I'm aware – and I think all our neighbors probably are as well," Kurt said. "Another milestone, marked off the list – Violet's first introduction to four-letter words."

 

Burt and Carole laughed heartily at Blaine's flushed cheeks.

 

"Don't worry, Blaine – at least she's not old enough to remember it yet," Burt said good-naturedly. "When Kurt was four –"

 

"Dad, no, God, no, we've managed to make it _thirteen years_ without Blaine knowing this story –"

 

"Oh my god, a new little-Kurt story? You have to tell me. Burt. You _have_ to tell!" Blaine exclaimed, his eyes shining bright as he dropped the carrot on the floor for Romeo, their game quickly forgotten at the prospect of learning new things about Kurt.

 

" _Dad_ –" Kurt warned.

 

"Sorry, Kurt, it's about time this story got told. It's too good to hold in any longer," Burt said with a grin as Blaine and Finn practically bounced in their seats. Kurt groaned and closed his eyes as he held Violet close.

 

"Don't listen to a word he says, sweetie," he whispered. "Lies, all of them."

 

"Okay, so when Kurt was four, he got this awful stomach bug. He was pitiful, puking everywhere for like two solid days – thank god Elizabeth was around then, because there's no way I could've handled it by myself …" Burt shuddered at the memory. "Anyway, I was holding him on the couch one night because he was just whimpering –"

 

"Thanks, Dad, make me sound like even _more_ of a weakling."

 

"You were sick, Kurt – stop ruining my story. _Anyway_ – we were watching _The Sound of Music_ for like the fifth time that day, and all of a sudden he looks at me with these big eyes, and I _knew_ he was going to puke. But instead of running to the bathroom like we'd been telling him to do, he reaches up and pulls my _favorite hat_ off my head."

 

Blaine's hands were clamped over his mouth, shoulders shaking, as he tried to hold back his laughter.

 

"So I'm sure I let out a fricking _stream_ of curse words – I don't even remember exactly what I said now – but he leans over and throws up right in my hat. And then of course he looks back up at me and just bursts into tears."

 

Blaine was laughing out loud by then, and Finn looked like he'd won the lottery because _Kurt_ had done something absolutely _disgusting_ , but Burt shook his head. "No, just wait, it gets better. Fast forward two weeks – I walk by Kurt's room where he's having a tea party with a couple Transformers, some G. I. Joes, and a Barbie doll, and the only thing I hear him say in this really high pitched voice – that was always his Barbie voice – is, "Fucking hell, Optimus Prime, that's a lovely apron you're wearing today!" Burt's voice rose two octaves in pitch as he tried to imitate it, and as soon as the phrase left his lips, he lost it, laughing loudly. Kurt buried his head in the side of the chair.

 

"I cannot believe this is happening," he said, his voice muffled by the linen slipcover.

 

Finn and Blaine were laughing so hard that they were clinging to each other.

 

"I'm sorry, baby," Blaine choked out, clutching his stomach, "I'm so sorry, you were only four, but it's just so _funny_ …"

 

"It was his new favorite thing to say," Burt said, still chuckling. "He'd say it everywhere – at the grocery store, when he was playing at the neighbor's house – the guys at the shop _loved_ it. 'Fucking hell, I want to play with Anna,' he'd say. 'Fucking hell, I want a lollipop, Daddy.' 'Fucking hell, there's lots of cars at your work today!' It was bad – it took weeks to get him to stop, because we couldn't ever stop laughing when he said it."

 

"Man, I can't _believe_ you said that stuff," Finn coughed out around his laughter, still hanging onto Blaine's shoulder. "I wish I could've been there to hear it …"

 

" _Fucking hell, Optimus Prime_ ," Blaine parroted in a squeaky voice, " _that's a lovely apron you're wearing today_!"

 

"I'm never going to live this down, am I?" Kurt asked, finally starting to laugh himself.

 

Blaine shook his head back and forth. "Never. Never, never – Burt, this is the best ammo you've ever given me."

 

"Use it wisely, son, use it wisely," he said with a smile. "Now can I have my grandbaby back, or what?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Abby gets mastitis, Rachel throws a baby shower, Burt falls head-over-heels in love, and you might wanna start getting your tissues handy....

**Chapter 10**

 

**Friday, June 23 rd, 2023**

Abby was curled in a ball on the cold tiles of her bathroom, sobbing as her mother wiped her forehead with a cool, damp cloth.

 

" _Shhh_ , honey, you're okay," she soothed.

 

"I am _not_!" Abby exclaimed shrilly. "What about this even remotely looks okay?"

 

"Sweetheart, you just need to give the antibiotics another day or two to work –"

 

"Shut _up_! You have no _idea_ – this wouldn't even be happening in the _first_ place if she was with me! Oh, god –" Abby wrenched herself upright, heaving into the toilet. Her whole _body_ ached with fever, and the nausea, god, if the nausea would just go away …

 

"Abby, that's not necessarily true – I got mastitis when you were born, too, and I was nursing you," Holly said, smoothing Abby's hair back from her face. "I'm sorry you feel so terrible, but I promise, it'll go away."

 

Abby fell back as that wave of nausea passed, resting her head against the bathtub. It felt good against her skin, cold, like a balm. "This might – the puking and the sore boobs and the feeling like shit – I feel like _shit_ , Mom – but the hole in my heart isn't ever going to leave." Her voice shrunk. "I miss her. I want her back."

 

Her mother froze above her in mid-movement, her hand still on Abby's head, then sat back on her heels. "Abby – what exactly are you saying?" she asked slowly. "You want her back in an abstract way, you _wish_ she could be here, or you actually want to reinstate your parental rights?"

 

"I don't know. I don't _know_ , Mom, all I know is that I'm _miserable_. She was with me for almost 40 weeks and now she's not and I want her back." Her heart felt dark, black, like she was drowning in the middle of the ocean at night with no light to find her.

 

"Abby …"

 

"What if I made a mistake, Mom? What if it was a terrible mistake?" she asked, sitting up, her eyes growing wider by the second. "Oh my god – I should've kept her. I shouldn't have given her away – how could I give my own _baby_ away?"

 

"Honey, calm down –"

 

It was sheer _panic,_ buzzing through her limbs and eating away at her insides and oh god what had she _done_?"I can't. Oh god, I can't – I need her back. Now. Mom, we have to call Karen, it's not too late. I have thirty days to change my mind, the lawyer said so. I want – you'll help me right?”  
  
"Abby …"  
  
"Please," she begged, the tears coming now, the tears never wanted to stop anymore, would she _ever_ stop crying? "Please, please, _please_. I don’t – Mom, she was inside me. I _grew her_. I grew a _baby_ and now she’s _gone_ and I don’t know what to do and god, I just miss her so much - how am I supposed to do this? I just want her back, Mama …"

 

" _Abby_."

 

She was stunned into silence as her mom's hands closed in a firm grasp on her cheeks.

 

"Listen to me, sweetie," Holly said, forcing her to look her in the eye. "This decision is yours. It's _always_ been yours. But you decided to let Kurt and Blaine raise her. That's what you've thought was best up until now."

 

"Well what if I'm _un_ -deciding?" Abby said heatedly. "What if I don't _want_ Kurt and Blaine to raise her? They – they just wanted me for my uterus, because neither one of them have one. They used me – they never cared about me in the first place!"

 

Holly shook her head. "Abby, they've sent you a dozen pictures already. They've done everything they said they'd do."

 

"Well – but –" Abby sputtered. "I could send _them_ updates. And pictures. How's that any different than what they're doing for me?"

 

"Because," her mom said gently, and _god_ did it make her mad, "they have no choice in the matter. And unless you say she is, Violet isn't their child. They have no right to her, no claim on her. All they have is you."

 

"Well all I have is _her_!"

 

"That isn't true and you know it," her mother said sternly. "Listen sweetie, I'm not telling you that you can't do this. I've told you that I'd support any decision you've made throughout this entire process, and I mean that. You're first and always my daughter, no matter what you decide, and I love you. But I don't know how rationally you're thinking right now. You're sick and you have a fever. Why don't we wait for you to start feeling better, and maybe talk to one of the counselors at the agency before you make a decision?"

 

"But I –"

 

"I know what you want, Abby, but this decision doesn't just affect you. You might think about talking with Micah, at least, before you decide anything."

 

Abby's gaze fell to the floor as she thought about Micah, how excited he was for college, how eager he was to go to Columbia in the fall. How a baby could never fit into his plans.

 

"I don't care what he thinks," she said, barely above a whisper.

 

"What?" Holly asked.

 

"I don't care what he thinks," Abby said louder. "If he wants to help, that's great. But I don't need him. I don't need anybody except her."

 

"Abby –" her mom said, sounding suddenly exhausted.

 

"I'll think about it," Abby told her, feeling suddenly better, feeling _defiant_. "But I don't think I'm going to change my mind."

 

* * *

**Sunday, June 25 th, 2023**

"Rachel Berry, I swear, you are made of magic," Kurt said, beaming when she met them at the entrance to the tea room. "You are the only person I know who could book Lady Mendl's in _June_ for an afternoon baby shower with only five days' notice."

 

"Well, a little name-dropping never hurts – between me, you, and Blaine, somebody's bound to recognize _one_ of us, at least," she said, laughing as she threw her arms around his neck. "And it probably doesn't hurt that the owner saw me in _Funny Girl_ two weeks ago and _loved_ it."

 

"So who's coming? You never gave us a guest list or anything," Blaine said as he shifted the baby carrier to his other arm, Finn, Burt, and Carole all coming up behind him.

 

"You'll just have to wait and see, now won't you?" she said with a grin. "Come on, everyone's inside."

 

They stepped out of the sun into the elegant tea room, Finn and Burt both looking around warily, worried that one misstep would send every teapot in the place crashing to the ground.

 

Their heads both jerked forward, though, when Kurt let out a high-pitched squeal. " _'Cedes_!" he exclaimed, dropping Blaine's hand and running forward to where she was seated. "Oh my _god_ – how did you –"

 

"Made of magic, remember?" Rachel said, a sly smile on her face.

 

Blaine was on the other side of the room, Violet still in tow, a grin splitting his face in half as he launched himself into suited arms.

 

"Wes Montgomery, never in a million _years_ did I expect to see you here –"

 

"And why not? Once a Warbler, always a Warbler, right?" Wes said, smiling down at the sleeping baby in the carrier. "Oh, and I picked up a couple stragglers on my way here, too – I hope you don't mind," he said, gesturing behind him to where Nick and Jeff sat, grinning, at a table.

 

"Congratulations from the Chicago contingent!" Nick said happily, waving at him.

 

The room was abuzz with chatter and laughter, happy reunions and new introductions popping up everywhere as Kurt and Blaine's past and present collided for one momentous occasion.

 

Kurt felt like it was his wedding day all over again.

 

The room only quieted when Rachel, armed with a glass of champagne and five feet, two inches of stage presence stood at the front of the room and cleared her throat.

 

"Thank you all for coming to Blaine and Kurt's little soiree on such short notice!" she said, her fingers coyly playing with her glass. "Some of you traveled hundreds of miles to be here and some of you just had to take the subway, but no matter where you came from, or what part of Blaine's or Kurt's lives you were a part of, we're all here for the same reason – to celebrate. A toast," she said, lifting her glass into the air. "To Blaine and Kurt: Congratulations! I think you've finally won. We've been through an awful lot together over the years, good and bad, but I think this even outshines _my_ numerous and impressive accomplishments."

 

Everyone laughed.

 

"Take good care of her and love her like I know you will, and if you ever need a break or a date night, just bring her over to Auntie Rachel's for ballet lessons or voice lessons or any other preparation I deem necessary for when she becomes my protégé."

 

"I know you have the best of intentions, but maybe wait till she can walk?" Kurt called, grinning from his table.

 

"Well, if you insist," Rachel said, her eyes shining. She paused to take a deep breath. "All joking aside – I'm so happy for both of you. I know how long you've waited for this, and I wish you all the best."

 

She turned her gaze to the still-sleeping baby now resting in Kurt's arms.

 

"And to Violet: you have been blessed with the two best dads anybody could ever ask for – they're my very best friends, _and_ I was raised by two dads of my own, so I'm your best source on the matter. They've only known you a few days, and they love you _so_ much – their world already revolves around you. Remember that when you're sixteen and angry because Kurt won't let you out of the house in ripped jeans – or a sweater with a poodle on it, whichever – and Blaine won't let you go to that party you've been _dying_ to go to. Remember that when you're yelling at them because you don't want to clean your room, or they're yelling at you because you stayed out past curfew. Remember that the first time either of them embarrasses you in front of your friends. Because you, more than anyone else in this world, have the power to shatter their hearts. Please don't."

 

Blaine's hand slipped into Kurt's at her words, and Kurt squeezed back tightly.

 

"All they'll ever want is for you to love them back. Well – that's not entirely true; Kurt will want you to go shopping with him, compare fashion notes when you get older, and Blaine will want you to go on magical imaginary adventures with him, and they'll both want you to sing – but no matter _what_ you do, they'll be so proud of you." She sighed, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief. "I love you so much already, sweetheart. I can't wait to watch you grow up."

 

Rachel looked up at her captivated audience. "Cheers!" she grinned, raising her champagne flute high, then tipping it into her parted lips with a flourish.

 

" _Cheers_!" the entire room rang out.

 

* * *

 

It was dusk before they arrived back home, arms full of baby carrier and gifts, joined by an entourage made up of Burt, Carole, Finn, Rachel, Mercedes, Wes, and Annie, Blaine's good friend from college.

 

Kurt eyed Blaine, slightly panicked, as they all streamed inside.

 

"Surely they don't all think they're staying," he murmured, soft in Blaine's ear as he bent over Violet's carrier.

 

"God, I hope not," Blaine whispered back. "I don't even think we have enough room for them to _stand_ …"

 

"Alright," Rachel said, clapping twice and sounding very much like a kindergarten teacher. "Kurt, Blaine, you take Violet and go sit down on the couch. And stay there." They looked up, blinking at her. "Well? Go."

 

Blaine, never one to defy an on-task Rachel Berry, went and sat, and Kurt smirked at her a little before following his husband.

 

"Now. Burt, Finn? You guys take the swing, the pack-and-play and the play mat and put them together. Mercedes? Take all the clothes and hang them in Violet's closet –"

 

Kurt frantically interrupted. "They go in size order from smallest to largest, left to right, organized by type, color, and –"

 

"Kurt, I know. I've seen your closet before," Mercedes laughed. "I won't destroy your system, I promise."

 

"Wes, you and Annie organize the things they'll need now by type and room, and Carole and I will put the things they won't need for several months in storage – you guys are number eight in the basement storage spaces, right Kurt?"

 

"Your memory is better than I thought. Rachel?" he asked. "Thank you."

 

"Anything for my favorite boys," she smiled, walking to the couch to drop a kiss on the top of both their heads. "Just take care of that baby, and we'll handle the rest."

 

Kurt curled his feet up on the couch beside him as he leaned into Blaine, gazing at their baby.

 

"She's pretty spectacular, isn't she?" Blaine murmured, pressing his cheek to Kurt's head.

 

"She is. And we're pretty lucky – I can't believe all this," Kurt said, gesturing to the room in general, where a flurry of activity was happening around them.

 

"I know – I can't wait to try out that ring sling that Carole got us. And I bet Vi will _love_ her swing," he cooed, his pitch lilting as he talked to her.

 

" _And_ her baby food maker, when she's old enough to eat solids," Kurt grinned. "I've already been perusing homemade baby food blogs."

 

Blaine slipped his arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Can you believe we've had her home for five days already?"

 

"I really can't," Kurt sighed. "I don't want to go back to work, Blaine."

 

Blaine laughed. "We've still got seven weeks before that has to happen. Don't start fretting yet."

 

"But I'm just going to get so _spoiled_ being home with you and her. I wish I could just design from home."

 

Blaine was quiet for a moment. "Maybe someday you can. But I think that's a conversation for another day, Kurt."

 

"I didn't mean –" Kurt rushed to answer.

 

"I know what you didn't mean, but I also know what you want, and it's just a matter of being patient enough to get there," Blaine said. "You're good enough. You just need experience."

 

Kurt felt his skin go pink all the way to his collarbones and marveled that this was what his life had become – married to his best friend, a baby in their arms, talk of a future design firm all his own. _Far, far, far_ _in the future_ , he reminded himself.

 

He smiled at Blaine. "I think I'm actually okay with what I've got right now."

 

Blaine smiled back. "Good. So am I."

 

It was another hour before everyone but Burt, Carole, and Finn had cleared out, and they stood in the living room awkwardly.

 

"So I think we'll see about that hotel," Burt said. "You guys seem tired – we'll get out of your hair. You think we can find a place somewhere nearby this late?"

 

"Of course you can. I'll make a couple phone calls. Do you want one or two rooms?" Blaine asked, handing Violet to Kurt and heading to their bedroom to retrieve his phone.

 

"One is fine, sweetie, thank you," Carole told him.

 

"I know I've said this about a hundred times already, but I'm real proud of you and Blaine, Kurt," Burt said, crouching to lightly stroke Violet's cheek with his finger.

 

"Thanks, Dad."

 

"You're gonna be an amazing father."

 

"If I am, it's only because I learned from the best," Kurt said, smiling softly.

 

"I love you, kiddo."

 

"I love you too, Dad."

 

Burt squeezed his shoulder. "You know this'll be hard for Blaine," he continued, soft but serious. "Maybe not now, but one day it's going to hit him, all the things that his dad should have done but didn't. Be patient with him when it happens, okay?"

 

"Yeah, Dad, I will."

 

* * *

 

" _Shh_ , Vi, I know, _shh_ , it's been a big day, hasn't it?" Blaine cooed to their baby as he stood beside Kurt in the nursery. Violet was screaming, naked, laid out on a soft, fluffy towel on her changing table as they bathed her.

 

"I can't wait till her cord falls off," Kurt said, washing carefully between each of her toes as she thrashed under his firm but gentle grip. "I think I hate these sponge baths as much as she does."

 

"Yeah," Blaine said, handing Kurt a dry towel and pulling his phone from his pocket to snap a quick picture, "but she _loves_ having her hair washed, don't you, baby girl?"

 

"It's just 'cause your scalp massages are practically sacred," Kurt told him, wrapping his child in the towel and passing her to Blaine with a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Anyone would love getting their hair washed if you were doing it."

 

"Well, lucky for you two, I save that only for the most extra-special of people. Come on, Vi, let's go show Papa how it's done."

 

* * *

 

"Why do I get the feeling that this is a bad habit to get into?" Kurt asked, snuggled against Blaine and the baby in their bed, a stack of storybooks nestled in the covers.

 

"I have no idea, Kurt, because you _know_ that infants who are read to consistently tend to have a love of reading as they get older," Blaine said. "I want her to love books, so I'm exposing her to books."

 

"Yeah, but five a night? Every night? When she's not even a week old, yet?"

 

"Are you saying that you don't like spending time with Violet and me, Kurt? That you don't like hearing me read out loud?" Blaine teased, bumping Kurt's shoulder with his own.

 

Kurt pretended to consider this. "Yep, that must be it," he finally decided with a grin. "Your voice is just too croaky for me, and that baby? I mean, why would I want to even hang out with her – they're all just smelly and messy and loud, right?"

 

Violet chose that moment to open her eyes and spit up on her sleeper.

 

"Oh no, you've already got Papa's perfect comedic timing," Blaine groaned, reaching for the stack of burp cloths they'd taken to keeping on the nightstand.

 

"We really are spoiling her," Kurt murmured once she was cleaned up, re-dressed, and back in her Daddy's arms for storytime.

 

"Don't care," Blaine sighed happily, leaning back against their headboard with a well-worn copy of _The Giving Tree_ , Violet lying on his chest. He looked over at Kurt as he opened to the first page. "She's stolen my heart already. If I do nothing else for the rest of my life besides make the two of you happy – no more books, no more tours, no more publicity – I think I'd still die the happiest, most fulfilled man ever to live."

 

Tears burned the back of Kurt's eyes. "How do you do that?" he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Ninety-five percent of the time you are the biggest _goofball_ , but then you come out with these lines, and –" he cut himself off, placing his hand over his heart. "Right here. You get me _right here_ , every time."

 

"Just wait till _she_ starts doing it," Blaine said softly, gazing down at the sleeping lump of blankets on his chest. "I mean, just think, Kurt – the first time she says 'I love you?' I'll just melt. You'll have to mop me off the floor."

 

Kurt laughed. "Auntie Rachel will have to come over and mop _both_ of us up, more likely." He scooted down in the bed, tipping his head to the side to rest it on Blaine's shoulder, right next to Violet. "I'm so glad we did this, Blaine. Crying fits and explosive diapers and spit-up aside – I feel like there's this hole in us that's been filled up. I just – family is so –"

 

"I know, Kurt," Blaine said, holding the baby closer and pressing a kiss to the top of his husband's head. "I know. It means a lot to me too – like I'm getting a second chance at family. I wasn't fortunate enough to grow up in a loving one, so I get to make one instead."

 

Kurt looked up into Blaine's eyes and laughed and their mirrored, misty-eyed expressions. "Okay," he said, "enough emoting – we have books to read, and it's getting late."

 

"Right you are," Blaine said with a watery smile, and turned back to the first page of the book. "Once, there was a tree," he read, "and she loved a little boy …"

 

* * *

 

**Tuesday, June 27 th, 2023**

Blaine loved when life was boring.

 

He and Violet were sitting in the bedroom, Blaine on the bed and Violet in her swing watching the mobile, while Blaine folded laundry. He was singing softly to himself, smiling at the sight of Violet's onesies in the same basket as his polo shirts and jeans.

 

"It would probably be wrong to ravish you in front of our daughter, right?"

 

Blaine's head jerked up, and he dropped the sleeper he was holding in surprise.

 

"Kurt!"

 

"I just find domesticity so sexy these days – no idea why," he said, sauntering over to Blaine and kissing him deeply.

 

"Mmmm," Blaine hummed into his mouth. "Wait till she goes to sleep – it shouldn't be long."

 

"Right," Kurt said, pulling back. "I got stuff to make Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie at the farmer's market – I thought I'd make a going-away dinner for Dad, Carole, and Finn tonight."

 

"Sounds fantastic," Blaine smiled. "I hate that they have to leave tomorrow."

 

"Me too," Kurt said sadly. "It's been nice having them close. So – what did you guys do while I was gone?"

 

"Oh, you missed so much excitement, baby," Blaine grinned. "We washed the dishes and did some laundry and sang some songs. I really, really love that sling Carole gave us. So does Vi, don't you, sweetie?"

 

They looked up to see Violet asleep in her swing.

 

Blaine dropped his voice to a whisper. "I'll put her in her crib."

 

"If you wake her up, and sex doesn't happen, there will be dire consequences," Kurt hissed back.

 

"Duly noted," Blaine said, easing their baby out of her swing and carefully carrying her to the nursery.

 

"Does it make me a total perv," he asked, shucking his shirt as he walked back in moments later, "to have a hard-on for you while putting our baby to bed?"

 

"Can't be helped," Kurt said, wiggling out of his tight pants, "no sex for seven days will kind of do that to a guy. _God_ , I'm starving for you."

 

"I can see that," Blaine said, grinning wickedly. "I'm a little hungry myself. But we'll have to be quick …"

 

"Somehow I don't think that'll be a problem, honey. Now get over here."

 

* * *

 

"Abby, this is – unexpected," Karen said slowly.

 

Abby smoothed her skirt, attempting a deep breath even though the Spanx she was wearing under her clothes severely restricted _any_ movement, breathing included.

 

"I know," she said, trying to sound mature, older than her seventeen years. This _had_ to work. "I feel bad. But – I realized that by the end, I wasn't doing this for the good of Violet, I was doing it for the good of Kurt and Blaine, because I didn't want to hurt them. It's just – not a good enough reason anymore."

 

She felt a squeeze on her knee under the table, and she knew she could never adequately express her gratitude for her mother's presence.

 

"You do understand –" Karen started.

 

"I have brought," Abby interrupted firmly, desperate to power through it, "an Excel spreadsheet indicating exactly how I will manage my school schedule and childcare this fall. I have support from my family, and also Micah. He won't be able to help as much as he'd like, since his family is opposed to – well, me, at the moment – but we've worked it out fine."

 

Karen raised her eyebrows as she took the sheet from Abby's hand.

 

"I know that I am young," Abby continued, holding back a gasp as she shifted and her sore breast pressed too hard against her own arm, "and I know that I have some rather time-consuming plans, but – she's more important than anything. I'm smart and I'm resourceful and I won't be the first teenage mom to ever make this work."

 

Karen pressed her lips together in a thin line for a moment, then looked up at Mrs. Roberts. "How do you feel about this decision?"

 

"I – honestly, I tried to talk her out of it," Holly answered with a sigh. "I can't imagine – but Abby's my daughter. I've told her through the entire pregnancy that this is her baby and it's her decision and whatever one she makes, I'll support fully."

 

Karen nodded. "Alright – Abby, we'd like you to speak with one of our counselors first, but if you still feel the same – I'll call Mr. Powell back in to draw up the papers."

 

Abby suddenly felt her heart jump to her throat. "Do I – will I have to meet with Kurt and Blaine?"

 

"No, but it might be nice to provide them with some explanation –" Karen sighed before Abby interrupted her again.

 

"I don't owe them _anything_ ," she said fiercely.

 

"Abby, honey …" Holly warned, placing a hand on the back of her shoulder.

 

Abby took another deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm still a little hormonal," she said. "I know I'm hurting them, and I really am sorry for that, but I have to put Violet over anybody else, and I think she'd be better off with me."

 

"Why don't we see how you feel after you talk to a counselor – you've met with Lindsay before, haven't you?"

 

Abby allowed them to lead her into another office, her still-swollen feet aching in her heels, but she was determined. No one – no therapist, no lawyer, _no one_ – could change her mind now.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know those tissues I was talking about last chapter? You might want to buy stock in those tissues. You will need those tissues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't really love posting spoilery stuff before a chapter, but I'm going to this time because this isn't an easy chapter to read. If you are triggered by loss of any sort, if you are triggered by extreme angst or heartache, or if you're a mom and have lots of feels about losing a child, you can email me or message me and I'll be more than happy to give a short synopsis of this chapter. My poor betas were subjected to this, and neither one of them got through it very easily, so I wanted to warn for that before we got started.

**Chapter 11**

 

**Tuesday, June 27 th, 2023**

"Kurt, honey, is that strawberry-rhubarb pie?" Carole asked as she walked into the kitchen.

 

"It is," Blaine answered for him, pulling his hand back as Kurt swatted at it for stealing a handful of toasted pine nuts from the bowl on the counter.

 

"Oh, that's my favorite!" she exclaimed.

 

"I know," Kurt smiled, craning his neck so he could look at her. "We wanted to thank you guys for everything you've done this week – you have no idea how much it's helped. And Blaine – you know I love you dearly, but I swear, if you eat any more of those pine nuts …"

 

"How did you even see me? I'm in your blind spot!"

 

"Haven't you heard? Eyes grow on the back of your head as soon as you become a parent. Are yours not in yet?" Kurt asked, his eyes twinkling.

 

"Apparently not," Blaine grumbled. "I'm gonna go find something useful to do. Want me to see if Vi needs a diaper change before dinner?"

 

"Got that covered already!" they heard Burt holler out, and Carole smiled fondly.

 

"He's been talking about being a grandpa for months. Please tell me you'll come visit us more than once a year, because if not, I think he'll drive me crazy. Or, even worse, _he'll_ go crazy and sell the shop and move to the city," she said with a grin.

 

"He would never," Kurt said haughtily.

 

"He might. He loves that baby, Kurt."

 

"So do we," Blaine grinned.

 

"Blaine, is that your phone?" Kurt asked, tipping his head to the side. Blaine stopped to listen.

 

"Yeah, I'll go grab it – I think you've got all this under control," he said, gesturing to the kitchen in general.

 

He hurried back to the bedroom, barely catching the phone before it stopped ringing.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Blaine? It's Karen. I'm so sorry – I have bad news."

 

* * *

 

Blaine clutched the porcelain sides of the pedestal sink in the bathroom, taking deep breaths as the faucet ran loud. He looked up into the mirror, saw wet, red-rimmed eyes. He couldn't remember when he'd started to cry.

 

He needed to leave, go to the kitchen, tell Kurt. He couldn't hide in the bathroom forever.

 

 _Hide_. That could work – they could take Violet, build some futuristic underground high-tech cave, untraceable with GPS, and hide out for the rest of their days. They'd be fine as long as they had a piano.

 

He coughed out an angry laugh. "Don't be ridiculous, Blaine," he scoffed at his reflection, eyes dark with rage and disbelief, still completely shocked with what Karen had just told him. His hands shook as he gulped down a wave of nausea, all the hair on his body standing on end.

 

How was he going to tell Kurt? He was about to break his husband's heart, just as his own heart was breaking – and there was Burt to think about, and Carole – what if he sent his father-in-law to the hospital with an actual heart _attack_?

 

Why was this happening?

 

His stomach rolled and he shook harder, his bones trembling deep beneath his skin. He sank to the floor, head in his hands, and let the tears come.

 

He had no idea how many minutes had passed before the knock came, but he heard Kurt's soft voice on the other side of the door saying, "Blaine? Are you sick?"

 

He almost laughed at the question – yes. Sick just about covered it.

 

Kurt waited a few moments, then creaked open the door.

 

"Blaine, honey, dinner's getting cold – what's wrong? God, you're pale, and – Blaine, are you crying?"

 

Kurt busied himself in the bathroom, pulling a washcloth out of the cabinet they'd hung neatly on the wall when they moved in, wetting it under the faucet that Blaine never had turned off.

 

"Kurt, come here," Blaine croaked out.

 

" _Shhh_ ," Kurt whispered, turning off the faucet and kneeling on the hard bathroom floor, "Here, sweetheart, this will make you feel better." He draped the wet cloth across Blaine's neck, and a cold chill ran like electricity through Blaine's skin.

 

"Kurt, I have to tell you something," Blaine tried again.

 

"You think you're pregnant?" Kurt quipped, winking at him. "Because _that_ would be an interesting turn of events."

 

"No, no, listen – this is serious," Blaine said, cupping Kurt's face in his hands. Kurt stilled and his expression turned somber. "That was Karen on the phone."

 

"Karen? What did she want?"

 

"She – Abby met with her. And the lawyer." Blaine swallowed hard against the bile that burned his throat. The room spun and his entire body quaked, his heels bouncing up and down on the floor, his knees knocking together like bobblehead dolls.

 

"And?" Kurt asked, perfectly still, his eyes wide.

 

"And – Kurt, I don't know how to tell you this, god –"

 

"Blaine. Blaine – just – what happened, honey?" Kurt's voice took on a frantic tone as he wiped Blaine's tears away with the washcloth.

 

Blaine removed Kurt's hands from his face, taking them in both of his own.

 

"Abby has decided –" he started, then paused, taking a gasping breath. "She said – Violet – Kurt, we have to give her back."

 

Kurt stared.

 

"Did – do you understand?"

 

"Give her _back_?" Kurt asked, gaping at him. "What do you mean, give her _back_?"

 

"Abby's taken back parental custody. Legally. She terminated the adoption," Blaine said, trying to keep his voice steady, closing his eyes against the dizziness that made the room tip and tilt.

 

"She did _what_?" Kurt's whisper was fierce and angry. "She – _why_?"

 

"Kurt, I don't know, I just –" Blaine said, too dizzy and too shocked still to reach out, to ask for what he needed.

 

"Did you tell her that was not acceptable, Blaine?" Kurt asked, his voice sharp as ice. "Did you tell her that we need to meet with her first, to discuss why this absolutely cannot happen?"

 

"Kurt, it's –"

 

"Because if _you_ cannot protect our child, then _I_ most certainly will. Where's your phone? I'm calling Karen myself."

 

"No, Kurt, I –"

 

"Your _phone_ , Blaine."

 

Blaine's stomach lurched, and he pushed Kurt out of the way and fell forward onto his knees, grabbing the cold sides of the toilet and emptying the contents his stomach into the bowl.

 

He coughed and gagged until he could barely breathe, and when he finally resurfaced, he fell against the tub shaking harder than ever, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Can I have that washcloth, now?" he asked, his throat raw and burning.

 

Kurt stared at him again, this time with tears in his eyes. "Blaine, I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

 

"No, it's okay. I know – I'm sorry, I didn't want to – Kurt, I can't –" he stumbled, his face screwing up into what he knew was an ugly expression as he tried to speak around his tears.

 

"I know," Kurt said, bending over him, gently wiping his face again, "that you must have done everything, asked every question –" He cut himself off as tears started rolling down his cheeks as well.

 

"She said that we can't meet with Abby. That – it's a legal thing, Kurt, we have no rights, we're still in the thirty-day period before anything is binding. There's nothing we can do."

 

Kurt sank to his knees and pulled Blaine up into a tight hug, precisely what Blaine had needed the entire time. They gripped each other, their tears leaving wet spots on cheeks and necks and collars.

 

Blaine let himself get lost in Kurt's embrace for a moment, still shaking but his nausea momentarily calmed.

 

"Our baby –" Kurt whispered brokenly into Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine clutched him tighter and let out a deep sob. Kurt pulled back, wet eyes searching Blaine's. "There's really nothing we can do?"

 

Blaine shook his head sadly.

 

"When do they take her?" Blaine didn't want to say it. " _When_ , Blaine?" Kurt demanded.

 

"Tonight."

 

* * *

 

"They sure are taking a long time," Finn's voice rang down the hallway as Kurt and Blaine staggered out of the bathroom. "The food's getting cold. You think they're okay?"

 

"I don't know, honey," Carole answered him.

 

"I'm sure they're fine, aren't they sweetie? Your daddies will be right back," they heard Burt coo to the baby, and Kurt turned into Blaine's chest again.

 

"I can't do this," he muttered against the soft cotton. "I can't. How – my dad – his heart –"

 

" _Shhh_ ," Blaine breathed, gripping the back of his head protectively. " _Shhh_."

 

Kurt allowed himself to be held for a moment – there was no safer place than Blaine's arms, and he let his cheek rest against his husband's, basking in the comfort that only Blaine could give him. Finally, he took a shaky breath. "Okay. Let's go."

 

They walked out of the bedroom into the open living-dining room, the dimming evening light still streaming through the windows.

 

"See?" Burt said as they approached, walking clumsily, still clinging to each other. "There are your daddies now!" He had the baby curled against his chest, and she was awake, gazing up at him.

 

Kurt's breath caught in his chest.

 

"Man, I thought you guys would never come back – hey, what's wrong?" Finn asked, the first to notice their tears.

 

"Um," Kurt said, knowing he was squeezing the life out of Blaine's hand, "um – I don't know how to say this …"

 

"Well just spit it out, Kurt, what happened?" Burt asked, his eyes full of concern.

 

"They – they, um –" The words wouldn't leave Kurt's mouth. He looked over to Blaine, silently _begging_ him to take this burden from him.

 

"Karen called," Blaine said tiredly for the second time that evening. "Our social worker? It – uh, it seems that the adoption has fallen through. Abby signed papers to take back her parental rights this morning. They – they're coming to get her tonight."

 

If Kurt's heart wasn't already shattered to pieces, it fell apart completely as he watched his dad's face crumble.

 

"How can she –"

 

"There's a thirty-day waiting period …" Blaine tried to explain, his voice thin. "Please, Burt – _please_ don't make me go through it all again."

 

Carole nearly knocked her chair over in her rush to get to them. "Oh, my _boys_ ," she said, tugging them both into one tight hug. Her tears came easily, and she cried openly as she petted their hair. "Oh, boys, I'm so, _so_ sorry, oh –"

 

"They're taking her?" Burt asked, bewildered. He looked down at the baby in his arms. "They're taking _her_? From _you_?"

 

Kurt looked over Carole's shoulder and nodded at him, tears filling his eyes again.

 

Burt was next to Carole in a flash, shoving the baby at Finn, who'd followed him, as he tugged Kurt from his wife's arms into his own. "Kurt, oh son –" Kurt felt like he'd been ripped open as he heard his father's voice break and quiet, gasping sobs escape his mouth. "Kurt –"

 

"I know, Dad, it's not fair –" The words died on his lips, his thoughts unfinished as he cried into his dad's t-shirt.

 

* * *

 

"Life was supposed to get easier for you boys, not harder," Burt said, pacing the floor after the initial shock, his grief turned to anger.

 

Blaine and Kurt were coiled together on the couch as Violet slept soundly in their laps. Finn sat on the floor beside them, idly petting Romeo as he whined, too aware of the tension in the room, and Carole sat in the recliner, her knees pulled up to her chest.

 

"It's not _fair_ ," Burt growled. "You get knocked down and beat down and held down every step of the way, and you manage to fight through it, and the one time that anything _good_ happens to you other than each other, somebody has to take it away!"

 

"Burt," Carole warned, but there was no fight in her voice.

 

"I just – I wish there was something I could do," he said, his hands falling helplessly to his sides. "I hate seeing you like this. And I – I was looking forward to her so much –" Burt trailed off and turned his back to them, head bent, hands on his hips.

 

"I'm going to read her a story," Kurt said decisively, moving Violet to Blaine's arms as he walked into the living room. "Dad, sit down. I can't concentrate with you pacing like that."

 

With a heavy sigh, Burt pulled Carole up from her spot in the recliner, sat, and pulled her back down in his lap. "I need you close," he murmured in her ear, and Blaine gave them a wan smile.

 

Kurt returned with a book in one hand and a full box of tissues in the other.

 

"Kurt – no, not that one, I won't make it through that one –" Blaine said, his eyes widening as he saw which book Kurt carried.

 

"Blaine, if there is one message I want to leave with our daughter, this is it," he said firmly, and sat down. He took a deep breath and Blaine squeezed his hand tightly, moving Violet to a more comfortable position.

 

"Vi, listen to Papa really close, okay?" Blaine murmured to the baby. "We mean every word."

 

Kurt cracked open the book and began to read. "I wanted you more than you ever will know, so I sent love to follow wherever you go …" His voice broke before he got through the first line, and he dabbed at the corners of his eyes with a tissue.

 

"Maybe this wasn't the best idea," he muttered, sniffling, but shook his head and continued. "It's high as you wish it, it's quick as an elf – you'll never outgrow it; it stretches itself!"

 

He read until the tears were too much, and Blaine kissed his temple and took the book from him.

 

"And if someday you're lonely, or someday you're sad, or you strike out at baseball or think you've been bad," Blaine read, his voice shaking, "just lift up your face, feel the wind in your hair – that's me, my sweet baby, my love is right there."

 

Kurt rested his head on Blaine's, gazing into Violet's face. When Blaine's voice became too thick with tears, Kurt took back over. "So hold your head high," he read with a watery smile, "and don't be afraid to march at the front of your own parade. If you're still my small babe or you're all the way grown, my promise to you is you're never alone." He paused, squeezing his eyes shut, biting down hard on his lip, holding back the tears until the book was done. "You're my angel, my darling, my star, and my love will find you wherever you are."

 

They looked up to see Carole softly crying into Burt's shoulder, and Finn had his head laid sideways on his knees, a sad, wistful expression on his face.

 

"I still can't believe this," Burt said, fire in his eyes. "Who does she think she is? Does she think Violet will have a better life with her or something? It's not true – don't _ever_ let _anybody_ tell you that it was better this way. You boys are the best examples of parent-material I _know_ –"

 

"Burt, _shhh_ ," Carole whispered, her hand grasping the back of his head.

 

"I think," Blaine said, his eyes closed, "that I'd like to be alone with her and Kurt for a few minutes – is that okay with you?" He turned to Kurt, eyes opening wide. "Or do you need to be with your family right now?"

 

Kurt's heart ached at his husband's words. "Blaine, you _are_ my family. Come on, let's go to the nursery."

 

Carole reached out and squeezed both their hands as they walked by.

 

"I don't know how to do this," Blaine whispered brokenly, once the door had clicked shut behind them.

 

"Nobody should know how to do this, honey," Kurt said, settling in their lavender glider and pulling Blaine into his lap, nestling Violet close to both of them. "God – this is such a nightmare."

 

"Except we don't get to wake up from this," Blaine said sadly, shifting in Kurt's lap. He curled his body around Violet and Kurt held them both, stroking Blaine's back, running his fingers through his hair.

 

They sat in silence until she began to get fussy, and Blaine wordlessly uncurled himself and went to get a bottle. He slammed cabinet doors as he found the formula and her bottles, and mixed the last bottle they'd ever feed her.

 

" _Fuck_ ," he whispered, holding the counter hard as the room began to spin again. Seconds later, he felt a strong hand grasp his shoulder.

 

"Just hold it together for a little bit longer," Burt said gently in his ear. "You can fall apart after she's gone."

 

Blaine spun around to face him. "But how –"

 

"You do what you have to for your kids, Blaine, even when it feels impossible," Burt told him.

 

"Yeah, well, she's not my kid anymore, is she?" Blaine asked bitterly.

 

Burt raised his eyebrows. "In here," he said, placing his index finger on Blaine's chest, over his heart, "she'll always be yours."

 

* * *

 

They'd managed to find their voices enough to sing to Violet when they heard a loud rap at the door.

 

"Can't you give them just a few more minutes?" they heard Carole ask tearfully. "Please – are you a mother? Do you have children?"

 

They couldn't hear Karen's answer. Blaine prayed to everything he never believed in that she would just go away.

 

She didn't.

 

"Kurt? Blaine?" Karen asked softly, knocking on the nursery door.

 

They didn't answer, and the door opened a crack.

 

"I'm so sorry," Karen said, her eyes looking watery. "I – our adoptions don't usually end like this. I don't want to take her from you. This – well – this is hard for me, too. I want you to know that."

 

Kurt's anger flared. "Hard for _you_?" he hissed. "Really? _Hard_ for _you_? _You_ get to go home tonight to an intact family. _You_ don't have to stare at a crib that your baby won't ever get to sleep in again. _You_ don't have to figure out how you and your husband are supposed to pick up the pieces of your broken hearts and keep on living in a world where your child _isn't_ anymore. I'd love to hear how this is hard for _you_ …"

 

Karen looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

 

"Damn right you're sorry," he muttered.

 

She held up an envelope. "Abby sent this. Read it whenever you feel comfortable – I know you're angry with her right now. I'll just leave it here on the table, alright?"

 

Kurt nodded, staring her down.

 

"Have you said your goodbyes yet?"

 

Blaine barked out a broken laugh. "Our goodbyes? How are we supposed to say goodbye to our baby, exactly? I don't – I can't –"

 

"Just take her." Kurt's voice was fierce as he held the baby close one last time, whispering a firm 'I love you' in her ear, and held her out for Blaine, who clutched her to his chest.

 

"Blaine, I don't want to have to take her from you," Karen prodded gently when he kept holding her.

 

"I never – we wanted to take her to the zoo," he said helplessly. "We wanted to take her to Broadway, Kurt was going to make her clothes. We just _got_ her – we've never had a Christmas or a birthday or –"

 

He stopped, unable to say anymore, and Kurt's hand came to rest on the small of his back.

 

"I need you to give her to me, okay?" Karen said.

 

He shook his head. "I can't," he croaked. "How am I supposed to –"

 

Karen sighed. "I'm sorry," she said, stepping closer and lifting her carefully from Blaine's arms.

 

He folded into Kurt, whose arms clamped around his back like a vice, and tried to breathe.

 

"Karen, wait …" Kurt begged as she reached the door. She stopped and turned around. "She needs her blanket. And – oh god, her bottles, and she takes a special kind of formula because she spits up – oh, why didn't I pack her a bag – oh my god –"

 

"Can't you wait long enough for us to get her things?" Blaine asked, looking up from Kurt's shoulder.

 

Karen looked at them sympathetically. "Of course I can."

 

"Okay – um – what do we need, honey? Her blanket," Kurt said, grabbing the soft Minky Dot blanket from the crib. Blaine pulled a flowered shoulder bag, originally intended to be her beach bag, from the shelf on her closet and began stuffing things in it.

 

"She needs her books – she can't go without bedtime stories, I want her to love books," Blaine babbled, sweeping the five they'd read the night before into the bag. "And – I'll go get her bottles and her formula and stuff, you pack stuff in here, okay?"

 

Kurt nodded, rifling through her closet for the clothes he wanted to send.

 

Blaine ran to the kitchen, pulling formula out of the cabinets and stacking it in his arms.

 

"What do you think you're doing?" Burt asked, his hands on his hips.

 

"Getting her formula together – god, we were about to send her away with _nothing_ – Burt, tell me this isn't happening …"

 

"You're sending it to _Abby_? Blaine, she's taking your kid away – you don't owe her anything."

 

Blaine stared at him, flabbergasted, as Kurt ran into the kitchen with the already-full bag.

 

"Blaine, it's full already – is there anything else we can pack her bottles in?"

 

He turned to Kurt. "What about one of those huge gift bags from the shower?"

 

"Oh, no. You are not sending shit to that girl in a fucking _gift bag_ ," Burt growled.

 

"Dad? We will send what we want to who we want _in_ what we want," Kurt snapped. "This stopped being about us the second that we walked Violet through that door, and we are _not_ sending her out of it with nothing. She _needs_ her _things_ and we will give them to her. I don't want her screaming all night in pain because of an upset stomach and a mother who doesn't know her baby well enough to know what kind of formula she takes. Give me the bottles, Blaine."

 

Blaine gave Burt a pointed look as he walked out of the kitchen behind Kurt with an armful of cans of Similac Sensitive.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kurt and Blaine enter a time of mourning.

**Chapter 12**

 

**Tuesday June 27 th, 2023**

When the door shut behind Karen and Violet, finality hanging in the air like a cloud of ashes, all Kurt could do was stare ahead, hoping that if he stared hard enough, the door would dissolve and he could at least catch one last glimpse of his baby before she left their lives completely.

 

Somewhere in the background, he was aware of Blaine running down the hall, could hear retching and the flushing of a toilet, but he didn't move, his feet planted firmly to the ground.

 

"Kurt?" His dad's voice pulled him to the surface. "Kurt, come sit down."

 

He let his dad lead him to the couch, where he sat, back stiff and straight, knees pulled up to his chin, and was silent. Finn tried to comfort him – Carole wasn't there, must've been with Blaine – but he shrugged the sympathetic touches off and curled up tighter. Every shield he had went up, and he felt parts of his mind sealing off like watertight compartments. He refused to drown in this.

 

* * *

 

Carole reached Blaine as he retched into the toilet for the second time that day.

 

" _Shhhh_ , sweetheart," she murmured, kneeling on the floor beside him, rubbing his back comfortingly. "You're okay, you're okay."

 

He shook as he fell back against the cold tiles, the room still spinning.

 

"Do you need some water?" she asked.

 

"Please," he managed, half-choking on the remnants of bile still clinging to his throat. "I don't know what to do," he said after sipping the water she handed him, his voice anguished. "I don't know –"

 

"You breathe, and you let us take care of you," she said. She sounded tired. "Nobody expects anything from either one of you right now."

 

"But your flight –"

 

Her eyebrows shot up, almost to her hairline. "Do you actually think that we would leave you here like this?"

 

Blaine cast his eyes to the floor. "I don't know – you've got work, Burt's got the shop, Finn's got school – I figured you had to get back."

 

"Oh, honey," Carole sighed, pulling him into her arms like a little child, rocking him gently back and forth. "Nothing could keep us away from you right now."

 

* * *

 

"Mom? Mom!" Abby squealed, peeling her face from the glass of their large living room window. "She's here, she's here, she's here!"

 

Her bare feet slapped against the floor as she ran across the room to her mother, nearly tackling her with the force of her hug. "Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you!" she cried happily, then ran and opened the door, waiting for Karen in the doorway.

 

She was a little shocked to see that mascara had run under Karen's eyes, and though she wore her typical professional air, the underlying joy that always managed to bubble through was gone.

 

"Hello, Abby."

 

"Hey, Karen! Oh my god, let me see that precious baby …"

 

"Here she is," Karen said, feigning happiness as she handed over the baby carrier and set the rest of the bags on the floor with a sigh.

 

" _Ohhhhhh_ ," Abby cooed as she lifted Violet from her carrier, "you look so _adorable_. At least we know they dressed you well while you were there. _God,_ I missed you." She looked over at Karen. "What's all that stuff?"

 

Karen pressed her lips together before answering. "Kurt and Blaine didn't want to send her to a new place without things she was familiar with." She paused and looked up at the ceiling like she was about to cry. "They were worried that you wouldn't know what kind of formula to feed her because she has a sensitive stomach, so they packed it and her bottles and quite a few other things as well. I'm not sure exactly what they sent, but there's a lot of it."

 

"Oh. But – I'm going to nurse her; I won't need formula –" Abby bent, still clutching her baby to her chest, and peered into the bags. "Wow. That _is_ a lot of stuff," she said, lifting out the soft lavender blanket.

 

"Yes. They wanted to make sure she'd be comfortable."

 

"But she's with _me_ – her _mom_ – how could she not be?" She curled the baby closer to her and kissed her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. "God, I'm so glad she's home."

 

Karen was quiet.

 

"I guess they must really have loved her," she said slowly, looking down at Violet, then back to the pile of bags on the floor. "I feel kind of bad, but I'm not sorry I did it. I know made the right decision this time."

 

Karen nodded. 

 

Abby shifted uncomfortably. "How were they when you left?"

 

"Abby –" Karen sighed, shutting her eyes for a moment and pressing her lips together in a thin line. "How do you think they'd be? They were devastated. In their minds, Violet was their baby –"

 

"She was _never_ their baby," Abby hissed. She pulled Violet close and covered her head protectively with her hand. Across the room, Holly set her coffee mug down hard on the table and walked down the hall, her hand coming up to hold her head.

 

Karen sighed again and rubbed her bangs out of her eyes. "Okay," she said, "you have all her things – do you have a crib for her to sleep in tonight?"

 

"Yes."

 

"And you feel comfortable with her care?"

 

"Yes."

 

"And you have our support number, in case you run into any difficulties or anything unexpected?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Alright – I'll leave you to it, then."

 

Karen bent to gather her things, but Abby reached out, placing her hand on Karen's arm.

 

"Are you mad at me?"

 

"Abby – no," she said tiredly. "It's – complicated. It's just been a long day."

 

"I'm sorry," Abby said, hanging her head, feeling guilty for the first time since she decided to keep Violet.

 

"Just promise me that you'll love her and take care of her, okay?" Karen said, lifting Abby's chin up to look in her eyes. "I do think you'll be a good mom."

 

"Thank you. I didn't want to hurt them. Did – did they read my letter?"

 

"Not while I was there," Karen told her. "It might be a while before they do."

 

"Are _they_ mad at me?"

 

"I'm sure they are, Abby."

 

"I told them in the letter –"

 

"You've told me what you said in the letter, sweetie," Karen said, smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her shirt. "But I wouldn't count on them taking you up on the offer. It'll be different for them – they'll need to move on. Seeing pictures of Violet – visiting her – isn't going to help them do that, even though I know your intentions there were good."

 

"I really made a mess of things, didn't I?" Abby asked softly, sinking to the couch.

 

"You're allowed to make mistakes, Abby," Karen told her. "But you need to move on, too. Now that you've made your decision, you need to stop thinking about Kurt and Blaine and start thinking about how you're going to raise Violet, okay?"

 

She nodded. "Yeah."

 

"I really do need to go," Karen said, looking at her watch. "Good luck with everything."

 

"Thank you."

 

The door shut behind her and Abby couldn't help the grin that spread across her face as she gazed at her daughter. "Let's call Daddy," she said softly. "He'll be so excited to know that you're home."

 

* * *

 

Kurt finally moved from the couch, walking into Violet's room with a request that Burt and Finn not follow him. He slowly, carefully picked up the mess that he and Blaine had made packing for her, then turned on the CD of lullabies that they'd recorded. As their voices harmonized in the background, Kurt sank to the floor, arranging himself in child's pose. He curled in a ball, his knees and forehead cushioned by the soft, feathery rug, his arms stretched far in front of him, palms resting on the cool hardwoods.

 

He breathed slowly in and out, centering himself, shutting out everything but the sound of his and Blaine's voices and his own heartbeat in his ears.

 

Just as he finally relaxed fully, letting go of the last twinge of tension in his neck, the door squeaked. He looked up to find Finn staring at him.

 

"Kurt, what are you –"

 

Kurt said nothing, gracefully standing instead, and strode forward and slammed the door as hard as he could, barely missing the tips of Finn's fingers in the doorframe.

 

He turned on his heel and dropped back into the pose, but his center was gone. He could feel the hardwood through the rug, his knees pressing uncomfortably against it, and instead of slow, easy breaths, he was inhaling raggedly. He was ready to give up and rejoin his family in the living room when Blaine's soft voice filled the room.

 

_The second star to the right shines in the night for you …_

The tears that had been holding steady behind his eyes finally rolled down his cheeks and he breathed in deep then blew out slowly, stretching his body down, down, down until his forehead touched the floor again and his fingers nearly reached Violet's crib.

 

* * *

 

"Where's Kurt?" Blaine asked when he and Carole finally emerged from the bathroom.

 

"In Violet's room," Finn answered. "It looks like he's meditating or something, but like face-down on the floor – it kinda freaked me out. I peeked in there, but then he got up and slammed the door in my face. I think he wants to be alone."

 

"Did he tell you that?" Blaine asked.

 

Finn nodded.

 

"Then maybe you should listen to him," Blaine said with a heavy sigh, heading back down the hall.

 

"Dude, didn't you hear me –"

 

"Finn? Don’t you think after thirteen _years_ I might be included in 'alone'?"

 

* * *

 

Blaine creaked the door to Violet's nursery open and swallowed down a fresh wave of nausea as he dropped to the floor next to his husband, bent prostrate on the floor.

 

"I wanted to send her to college with that CD," he said softly, listening to Kurt sing "Stay Awake" from Mary Poppins. "I wanted her to call us complaining about how her friends think we're such losers for still owning CDs, how they think _she's_ such a loser for having a CD of her dads singing a bunch of Disney lullabies to her."

 

Kurt sat up, wiped at his eyes. "Blaine –"

 

"I don't know what to do, Kurt."

 

"I don't either."

 

* * *

 

They reappeared in the living room twenty minutes later, drained and devoid of energy. Then Blaine spotted a bib thrown haphazardly over the back of the recliner from a feeding the day before, and the energy came back.

 

Without saying a word, he strode into the kitchen and grabbed a trash bag from under the sink.

 

"She's everywhere," he said flatly, emerging from the kitchen as Kurt sank onto the couch and tucked his legs up under his chin again. "I can't get away from her – Kurt, I don't think I can go in her room again."

 

Kurt didn't say anything as Blaine shook the bag open, throwing the bib, a plastic container full of pacifiers, and the bottle warmer that Blaine he'd brought from the kitchen inside.

 

"Blaine, go sit down," Burt said, getting up from his place on the couch as Blaine moved to the swing in the corner, trying to manhandle it into the too-small bag.

 

"I can't look at it anymore," Blaine said, ignoring him. "Here – Kurt – come help, you can always get things to fit when I can't –"

 

"Blaine, stop," Burt said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you're upset, but I don't want you doing anything rash."

 

"How is this _rash_?" Blaine demanded. "What are we supposed to do with _this_ ," he gestured toward the swing, sticking halfway out of the trash bag, "when there's no _baby_ to put in it? I just – I need it out of the house –"

 

Blaine turned, facing away from his father-in-law, then walked into the kitchen when he realized that there wasn't anywhere to look where he wasn't looking at _someone_. He didn’t know what to do with his hands – they rested on his hips, then scrubbed through his hair, then pressed against his closed eyelids and finally came to rest on the back of a kitchen chair. He took a deep breath, clenched his teeth. He needed to get himself under control; he hadn't cried this much since he thought Kurt was breaking up with him their junior year in college.

 

"Blaine?" Burt said, and Blaine could feel his presence hovering right over his shoulder.

 

"Hmm?" he said, not trusting his voice.

 

"I think you're forgetting that I'm not your father. You can cry in front of me – it's okay. Hell, _I'm_ crying," he said, and Blaine felt himself being gently turned around. "See?"

 

It was true – there were tear tracks on Burt's slightly-wrinkled face; the mischievous twinkle that so often lit his eyes was nowhere to be found.

 

"Look, I know as well as anybody that people have different ways of grieving, and that here at first, your emotions can be kind of unpredictable," he said, swiping at his eyes with the palm of his hand. "But I've also known _you_ for about fourteen years now, and you can correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that a hug from a guy who really, really wishes he could've been your dad instead of that miserable asshole of a father you ended up with might make you feel better than throwing all your baby's stuff away."

 

Blaine gaped at him. "But she's not –"

 

"Just because you don't have legal rights to her now doesn't mean she wasn't ever yours," Burt said, and stepped forward into Blaine's space, wrapping him in a tight bear hug.

 

Blaine gasped – the strength and lack of hesitation in Burt's embrace still caught him off-guard. He wondered if he wouldn't be a stronger man now if his own father's hugs had been that tight, but the few hugs he'd gotten from his dad after he'd come out had been brief and weak, as if his dad was afraid that homosexuality was contagious, and he'd catch it from Blaine.

 

His breath came out shaky as he hugged back, and Burt squeezed him even tighter – _It's no wonder_ , he thought, _that Kurt's as strong as he is when he's always had this to hold him up when he couldn't do it himself_.

 

"I'm sorry." He breathed the compulsive apology into the worn cotton just below Burt's shoulder.

 

"What the hell are you apologizing for?" Burt asked him, pulling back a little.

 

Blaine paused and looked at the floor. "I don't know. It's just – you know, I just apologize for things. I'm sorry –" Blaine stopped himself with a rueful laugh. "See?"

 

Burt shook his head. "I know you do, but you shouldn't. If anything, the world owes _you_ an apology, not the other way around."

 

"Sometimes – on really bad days like this, or when Kurt and I are fighting – I really wish I could just talk to my mom," he said quietly, changing the subject. "Not that – I don't mean that you guys aren't good enough for me –"

 

Burt put his hands on Blaine's shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "Blaine? Cut the 'I'm scared to offend my father-in-law' crap, okay? Just for today, at least?"

 

"I'm –"

 

"Don't even say it."

 

Blaine sighed. "I don't think I know how to say anything else."

 

Burt shook his head angrily. "They really fucked you up, didn't they? Your parents, I mean."

 

"I –"

 

Burt pulled Blaine close to his chest again. "You are so much better than them – you know that, right?"

 

"I guess I'll never know now, will I?" he asked bitterly. "I wanted to prove that I could be a better dad than my dad was. And – I had hoped that maybe they – mom, at least – might come around, after Violet – after we got her, I was hoping to bring her home for Christmas –" Blaine's voice cracked around his words, and Burt held him, steady and solid as a boulder.

 

* * *

 

"I got takeout," Finn said loudly several hours later, the door slamming hard against the wall.

 

Blaine and Kurt looked up from where they were curled together on the couch – they hadn't even noticed he was gone.

 

"Thanks, bud," Burt said, striding forward to take a bag from Finn's overflowing hands.

 

"No problem. I – it was something I could do. And I was hungry."

 

"Mmm, me too," Carole said, pushing herself up out of the chair. "Boys? You should eat."

 

"Not hungry," Kurt said as he idly fingered Blaine's curls, staring blankly ahead.

 

"Me neither," Blaine said. He made no effort to lift his head from Kurt's lap.

 

"Come on, man, I got drunken noodles – I know that's your favorite – _and_ extra egg rolls …" Finn said, shaking the bag in the air, trying to sound enticing. "I even got sushi for you, Kurt, 'cause I know you think anything else goes straight to your hips, even though it's totally not true. Like – _what_ hips?"

 

"Thanks, Finn," Kurt said with a wan smile. "I just don't know if I have the stomach for sushi right now."

 

Finn's face fell, and Carole placed a comforting hand on his arm. "It's okay, sweetie, I'm sure they –"

 

"No, no, it's okay, I'll eat something," Blaine said, a pang of guilt filling his chest at Finn's disappointed expression. He stumbled over his own feet to get to Finn and the bag of food, unaware of the worried expression that colored Kurt's face.

 

"Awesome!" Finn smiled, setting the bag on the counter and unloading it. "Here – moo shu vegetables for Burt, chicken with peanut sauce for mom, and – here it is, drunken noodles!"

 

The smell of the food hit Blaine in the face like a ton of bricks as Finn opened the to-go box, turning his stomach. He took the chopsticks Finn offered him and took a careful bite, chewing, chewing, chewing, and finally swallowing it down in a big gulp.

 

He couldn't help the grimace that came over his face as he tried to take a second bite, and Finn's hand came to rest on his arm. "Blaine, you don't have to eat it just for me."

 

"I –"

 

"Seriously. I wanted to help, but …" Finn shrugged. "Not helping. It's okay."

 

Blaine wore a pained expression. "I'm sorry."

 

"After the day you've had, man? No need to apologize. C'mere," Finn said, pulling him into a warm hug. Finn towered over him, making him feel so _small_ , but never insignificant. It was a little bit like being hugged by an overly friendly giant, and Blaine had admittedly missed it.

 

"I think I might actually just go to bed," Blaine said once Finn had released him. "I'm just so _tired_ all of a sudden. Kurt?"

 

"I'll be in there in a minute, honey," Kurt said, curled up with Romeo on the couch. Blaine nodded and dragged himself down the hall and into the bedroom, dropping his clothes in a pile on the floor to be picked up in the morning. He slid under the covers in his boxer-briefs, relieved to feel the familiar high thread count sheets against his skin.

 

* * *

 

"Kurt?" Blaine sat halfway up in bed, blinking and rubbing his eyes as shadows were cast over the planes of his face by the streetlights outside their bedroom window.

 

Kurt smiled sadly – there was no way to describe a sleepy Blaine other than _adorable_ – and shucked his shirt, dropping it on the ground.

 

"Honey?"

 

"What time is it?" Blaine asked, his voice thick and slurred with sleep. "How long have I been out?"

 

"Maybe fifteen minutes? I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure Dad and Finn got the air mattress blown up."

 

"'S okay."

 

Kurt chuckled softly. "You've already taken up more than your fair share of the bed. Scoot over."

 

Blaine obliged as Kurt undid his shorts and let them fall, stepping out of them and climbing up the foot of the bed, flopping belly-down on top of the comforter with a loud groan. "I'm so tired."

 

He felt Blaine fumbling in the dark for his hand and turned onto his side, reaching out to cup Blaine's cheek gently in his palm.

 

"I wish this was a bad dream," Blaine whispered. "I wish we could wake up in the morning and everything would be okay again –"

 

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt sighed, slipping under the covers. Blaine latched onto him, octopus limbs curling around his chest and legs. " _Shhh_ , _shhh_ ," he soothed, rubbing Blaine's back, tears coming to his eyes.

 

"I can't believe she's gone," he gasped into Kurt's shoulder.

 

" _Shhhh_ ," Kurt repeated, then tipped Blaine's chin up and kissed him softly. He pulled away momentarily, staring into Blaine's wet eyes, his own gaze tear-blurred, and carefully wiped away a single drop of salty liquid that clung to Blaine's thick eyelashes with the very tip of his finger.

 

"No matter what happens, we're in this together, remember?" Kurt said, pressing a firm kiss to Blaine's temple. "That's what we said before. No matter what happens, I love you."

 

"I didn't think it'd end up like this," Blaine said in a broken voice. "I thought that if she changed her mind she'd at _least_ do it before we brought Violet home …"

 

Kurt silenced him with another solid kiss to the lips. He cupped Blaine's cheek in his hand again, tipped his head and slid the tip of his tongue forward out of his own lips, running it lightly over Blaine's.

 

Blaine pulled back. "Kurt –"

 

He wordlessly kissed down the tendon on the side of Blaine's neck, sucking lightly when he reached his collarbone, and Blaine inhaled sharply.

 

"I don't want you to do this just to make me feel better," he said, squirming under Kurt's touch. "I know you need –"

 

"The only thing I need right now is you," Kurt said, his tone gentle and reverent as he kissed down the length of Blaine's sternum.

 

The octopus limbs were back, and Kurt found himself entirely entangled in Blaine's grasp. "I love you," Blaine whispered, clinging to him, and Kurt clung right back.

 

There was a heaviness to their touch, the kind that came only with intense worry or suffering – it was there after Burt's second heart scare, after Blaine's aunt, the only family member he'd ever been close to, died unexpectedly six winters prior from a cancer she never knew she had.

 

It was in the drag of their fingertips, in the weight of their sighs, in the fact that Kurt gasped and started crying the first time Blaine's fingers brushed against his entrance.

 

"You okay?" Blaine asked, cradling him, fingers far removed from the sensitive skin. "We don't have to –"

 

"No, no, I think I need this," he answered, trying to steady his breathing. "I – it'll make me let go a little? And god knows you need some control right now – I can _see_ you spiraling."

 

"I love you," Blaine said, not quite replying. "Just say the word, and I'll stop."

 

They both cried in the end, their foreheads pressed together so hard their skin turned white as Blaine pressed himself deep into Kurt's body. Kurt could feel his short fingernails digging into Blaine's shoulders, making small red crescents in his skin, but Blaine didn't seem to mind, pressing his shoulders back into Kurt's touch and thrusting deeper still.

 

Kurt couldn't speak. He tried three times to say "I love you," but his throat rebelled, letting out gasping sobs in place of the words that made his body quake and quiver. Eventually he gave up, trying to breathe through the tears as Blaine took him apart piece by piece.

 

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine finally stuttered, "oh god, oh Kurt, oh _Kurt –_ " His hips snapped with a tautness that Kurt recognized.

 

He gasped through his orgasm as Kurt held him firmly, then collapsed, floppy and clingy, on top of him.

 

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "You didn't –"

 

" _Shhh, shhh,_ don't be sorry. I love you," Kurt found himself finally able to say as Blaine reached up to cup his cheek, so he said it again. "I love you." And again, and again, and again. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

 

There were messy, wet kisses, an equally messy, wet hand job, and then Kurt felt himself succumbing to sleep as Blaine’s thumb caressed back and forth over the bumps of his knuckles.

 

"I love you too," he heard Blaine breathe just before he fell into a night of restless dreaming.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Finn puts his foot in his mouth, Burt remains the World's Greatest Dad, and Kurt and Blaine aren't quite sure what to do with themselves.

**Chapter 13**

 

**Wednesday, June 28 th, 2023**

Blaine opened his eyes, grunting as he slowly awoke. Warm sunlight streamed through their bedroom window, and the scent of – cinnamon, maybe – wafted into the room from the kitchen. Kurt must have already gotten up to make breakfast and feed Violet – but no, Kurt was right beside him.

 

Like a swift kick to the gut, he remembered, and all the air rushed out of his lungs just like it had when the tip of the leather dress shoe ruptured his spleen when he was fourteen.

 

_She's gone._

 

He rolled over, burying his head in Kurt's bare shoulder.

 

"Why does it have to be sunny today?" he groaned.

 

"Mmm?" Kurt cracked one eye open as he shifted to wrap his arms around Blaine's back, a movement more instinctual than intentional.

 

Blaine breathed him in, steeling himself for the awful day ahead with the only person he'd ever grown roots for.

 

"You're clingy," Kurt grunted out as Blaine curled into his chest, but pulled him closer still. Sweating under Kurt's heavy warmth, Blaine kicked the sheet, thrown halfway off during the night, to the end of the bed. He let out a soft moan as Kurt's thumbs pressed into the muscles below his shoulder blades, knotted from stress. "Feel good?" Kurt murmured.

 

"Mmm." Blaine shifted a little so that they were perfectly aligned, from their noses, lightly touching, to their bare cocks, half-hard and brushing against each other.

 

"Let's stay in here all day," he whispered as Kurt kissed the tip of his nose. "We'll hide out and have food delivered by crane through the window and we can pretend that nothing bad ever happened."

 

"Blaine …"

 

"I just miss her so much already. How're we going to do this?" Blaine asked, not meeting Kurt’s eyes.

 

Any answer that Kurt might have had was interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

 

“Kurt? Blaine? You guys decent?”

 

The question was apparently rhetorical, because Finn did not pause for either of them to reply before he opened the door. His eyes widened, and he froze for a second as Blaine, cursing, scrambled to pull the rumpled sheet at the end of the bed up over himself and Kurt.

 

“Holy _shit_.” Finn spun around, his hands flying over his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry – I'm just gonna –" he stammered and ran out of the room, nearly running headlong into the doorframe. The door slammed shut behind him. 

 

“Finn, wait, it's okay, just give us a minute...” Blaine called, his voice croaky from sleep.

 

“You know, as many times as I've walked in on you guys, you'd think I'd be over it by now, but –" Finn said weakly outside their door.

 

"You'd think," Kurt said to Blaine dryly, rubbing his eyes. "What is this, the fourth or fifth time now?"

 

Blaine sighed. "I'll go do damage control. You can have the shower first."

 

"Thanks, honey."

 

Blaine slipped out of bed and pulled on a loose pair of pajama pants and a snug, soft t-shirt. Just before he opened the door he heard Kurt sigh and turned around.

 

"You're so gorgeous," Kurt said, his voice a little dreamy. He was hugging Blaine’s pillow to his chest, smiling just big enough for his dimples to show.

 

Blaine tried to smile back. "Thanks."

 

"And my brother is an idiot."

 

"He is," Blaine agreed with a nod.

 

Kurt took a deep breath, then let it out in a big _whoosh_. "We can do this, you know. Today. Tomorrow. The next day. We'll just have to take it slow." Blaine bit his lip and nodded before easing the door open, leaving Kurt to himself.

 

In the living room, Finn couldn't meet Blaine's eyes.

 

“Dude, I'm so sorry, Mom asked me to get you guys for breakfast, I didn't think...”

 

“Finn, it's fine. It's an unfortunate hazard of having houseguests – if anything, it's our fault for not locking the door. Can we just forget about it?"

 

“Okay. Yeah, okay.”

 

Blaine nodded and stood, patting Finn on the shoulder and moving toward the kitchen when Finn spoke up again. “I just … I don't get it," he said.

 

Blaine turned around. "You don't get what?" he asked tiredly, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

 

"I don't know," Finn said, blushing. "I mean, your baby gets taken away, and you spend the evening puking and crying which is totally what _I_ would do, but then you … you …” He stammered, searching for the least awkward way to say it. Finally he gave up and dropped his volume. “You and Kurt go and have _sex?_ While me and Burt and Carole are in the next room?”

 

Blaine stared at him. "What makes you think Kurt and I had sex, Finn? Did you hear anything last night?" he asked slowly.

 

"Well, no –"

 

"And more importantly, why do you _care_?"

 

“Dude, I don't _care_ , but I'd rather not walk in on it," Finn said, rubbing his hands on his jeans uncomfortably. "How would you feel if you walked in on me and my girlfriend? Or – your parents?"

 

Blaine closed his eyes in frustration. No part of him wanted to have that conversation on this day, and he felt his face heat up in anger that Finn was pushing him into it. "You didn't walk in on anything, Finn."

 

"Oh. It just seemed –"

 

"I don't care what it seemed like! And for future reference, I try to make a point of waiting for an _answer_ when I knock on someone's bedroom door," Blaine snapped, feeling suddenly vicious. "We've been married for six _years_ , Finn. Are you really that surprised that we don't always sleep in pajamas?"

 

"Well – no, I mean – I don't know!"

 

Blaine glared at him. "So, what, you think every time we're naked together we're fucking like rabbits? It's not like you've never had morning wood before! Did you ever think that it might just be hot in our apartment in the summer?"

 

Finn shifted uncomfortably. "I –"

 

Blaine knew he was getting out of line, but he didn't quite know how to stop himself, and if he was being honest, he really didn't care. It felt good to yell at someone, so he continued. "Did you ever think that maybe Kurt is the only person I can go to right now who understands? Who won’t send me these goddamn pitiful looks, and will just _hold_ me and _cry_ with me? That maybe we're coming to each other for _comfort_ , not because we're horny?" Blaine’s voice rose in pitch as he tried unsuccessfully to hold his tears back.

 

"Blaine, man, I'm –"

 

"No. No, Finn, fuck _you_ – of all the days to make a big deal of seeing two married men in bed together –"

 

"Blaine? What's going on?" Kurt emerged from their bedroom with wet hair dripping onto his undershirt, which he was tucking into a pair of tight yellow pants. "I heard you shouting."

 

"For all the acceptance bullshit your brother spews out, he _still_ acts like a homophobic asshole sometimes, that's what's going on," Blaine said, angrily wiping the tears from his eyes.

 

Finn seemed to crumble at Blaine's words as Burt strode out of the kitchen holding a dishtowel and Kurt whipped around to face him at the same time. "Finn? What did you say to him?" Kurt demanded.

 

"Nothing," he said, sounding hurt. "I just – I said I didn't want to walk in on you guys, you know, _engaging_ in things, but I didn't mean it like _that_ – it's not 'cause you're two guys or anything – I mean, I wouldn't want to walk in on any of my friends doing that."

 

Blaine knew somewhere in the rational part of his mind that he needed to calm down, but he was so _angry –_ he could've used a heavy bag, something to punch. Instead, he used words to hit instead of his fists. "Not even Santana and her current flavor of the week?" he snarled, ashamed of the tears that wouldn't stop falling from his eyes. "Double the boobs, double the fun?"

 

He knew he'd gone too far when his father-in-law spoke up. "I think that's about enough." Burt's voice was sharp, his eyes hard. "I have never heard you boys talk to each other like this, and it's not gonna start now. Finn, in the kitchen with your mom. Blaine –"

 

But before Burt could finish, Finn interrupted him. "No, Burt, it's my fault." Finn bent and wrapped his arms around Blaine's slight shoulders, and Blaine was so shocked that he stood, still as a statue. "I'm so sorry, man," Finn said, towering over him, sounding truly remorseful. "I never mean to come off as an asshole, but I always manage to … and you usually handle it so well, but I was totally out of line today considering everything else."

 

Blaine wanted to refute Finn's statement, to say that _he_ was the one who was out of line, especially with that last comment, but all that came out was a noise that sounded vaguely like a wounded animal. He was vaguely aware of Kurt and Burt retreating from the room as Finn rubbed his back.

 

“ _Shhh_ , it's okay. It's gonna be okay," Finn whispered. "You and Kurt are the strongest guys I know. If anybody can handle this shit, it's the two of you.”

 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I'm a mess," Blaine managed to choke into Finn's chest. “I just miss her so much."

 

"I know you do, man. So do I." Finn squeezed his arms around Blaine's back – it felt like a giant's hug – then pulled back a little to look in his eyes. Blaine was surprised to see that they were a little watery. "Come on," he said. "Mom made those cinnamon scones – the ones that she says her grandma used to make? We've got to get some before Burt eats them all and Kurt yells about his heart for the rest of the day."

 

* * *

 

**Thursday, June 29 th, 2023**

"How long have you been up?"

 

Kurt jumped, jerking his head up from the sketchpad settled in his lap. "Hey, Dad, you startled me. I guess since around three or so – what are _you_ doing up?"

 

"Same thing you're doing – can't sleep," Burt answered simply. "Does it help, sitting in her room?"

 

Kurt shrugged. "I guess. I just don't want to forget her," he said quietly, looking around the room. There were books still splayed out all over the floor from where Blaine jerked them off the shelves in his rush to pack her bag, but other than that and her partly-empty closet, everything else screamed normalcy. A tube of diaper rash cream still sat on her changing table, the crib was perfect minus one lavender minky-dot blanket, and an outfit hung on her closet door handle, ready for a morning that would never happen. Kurt wasn't sure if he could ever touch the room again.

 

Burt sighed. "Come on, let's take a walk. Think Romeo's up?"

 

"If he's not, he will be when we get his leash out," Kurt said, rising from the lavender linen glider with one last glance over his shoulder. He quietly walked with Burt into the living room where Carole was asleep on the air mattress, curled under blankets, and Finn was snoring on the couch. Kurt tiptoed around them to pick up the Burberry leash from the end table, and the little white ball of fur jumped out of his puppy bed and came bounding over to him. "Wanna go for a walk, buddy?" Kurt whispered, stooping to fasten the leash to Romeo's collar.

 

He followed his dad out the door after leaving a note on the counter, closing the door with a quiet _click_.

 

They'd walked for half a city block when Burt looked over at him. "Any good coffee places open at –" he glanced at his watch, squinting to see the numbers in the barely dawning light, " – five-thirty in the morning?"

 

"You're in luck," Kurt told him. "Our local place opens at five."

 

They walked in silence for another four blocks, Kurt taking the lead with Romeo trotting happily beside him.

 

"Ignore the name – they're actually really nice. Blaine likes to write here," he explained, gesturing up at a sign reading "Bean Me Up Coffee."

 

Burt raised his eyebrows. "So Blaine's still got a thing for that new Kirk guy."

 

"Chris Pine, and yes. But don't we all?"

 

Burt's eyebrows raised higher. "Don't know about that … How long did it take him to convince you to set foot in a place with a Star Trek reference, huh?"

 

"Two weeks. He kept bringing me lattes, which weakened my resolve."

 

"Mmm," Burt nodded. "Well, if you want, I'll hold Romeo out here –"

 

"Oh, no, they're pet-friendly. They love you here, don't they, buddy?" he cooed, reaching down to scratch behind the puppy's ears.

 

"Huh."

 

"I know, weird city thing, whatever," Kurt said, pushing the door open. "Morning, Braxton," he said, greeting the barista with a wave.

 

"Hey, Kurt – oh, you've got Romeo! Let me get him a treat!"

 

"You guys are popular around here, huh?" Burt said as Braxton darted to the back and a blonde girl came around to the front of the counter to say hello to the puppy.

 

"Dad, this is Wendy," Kurt introduced them, and Burt shook her hand.

 

"I'm Burt, Kurt's dad," he said.

 

"Oh, it's so nice to meet you! These boys are here so often they could practically run the place," she grinned, "especially Blaine. Where is he this morning? Oh wait – the baby! Was she born already? Is he home with her?"

 

Kurt could feel his heart breaking anew – this was what it would be like for months, he knew, explaining that yes, they were supposed to have a baby, but no, things didn't quite go according to plan. He made a mental note to go over the pros and cons of becoming hermits with Blaine later.

 

"There were – complications," he said carefully. "Not – not with the birth, Violet's fine, but – her mother decided to keep her after all."

 

Wendy gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry Kurt, I –"

 

"It's okay, you couldn't have known," he said as Braxton came back out with Romeo's treat.

 

"Couldn't have known what?" he asked, bending down as Romeo rose to his back paws, begging.

 

"They didn't get to keep their baby," Wendy whispered, still shocked.

 

"Oh my god – I'm so _sorry_ ," Braxton said, stepping forward to wrap a startled Kurt in a tight hug.

 

"Th-thank you," Kurt stuttered, trying to catch his breath once he was released from Braxton's grasp. "We'll just – I think we'll take our coffee outside this morning."

 

* * *

 

"God, that was awful. Is _everybody_ going to come hug me without my permission?" Kurt asked once they were settled at a table outside the shop, watching the sunrise.

 

"They might," Burt said.

 

Kurt sat still for a long time, blowing on his coffee every now and then. He looked up, up, up higher, past the buildings and into the sky which was just beginning to show signs of a blazing sun.

 

"How do you do it?" he asked quietly, still looking up, refusing to look at his dad. He couldn't look at his dad, or he might cry. "How do you grieve like this, knowing that you're never going to have them back? It was – it felt different, with Mom."

 

"Course it was different. You were _eight_ , Kurt," Burt said, and Kurt was shocked to hear the weariness in his voice. "Kids grieve differently. And – god, it was hell on you I know, but there's nothing in this world that could compare to losing a child. As much as it hurt me to lose Elizabeth, I honestly don't think I could've survived losing you."

 

Kurt finally made himself tear his eyes from the horizon. It was like working against his own muscles, turning his head to look at his father, and his heart lurched when he saw that Burt's eyes were wet.

 

"Then how are we supposed to do it?" Kurt asked, his voice rough.

 

"One day at a time. One hour at a time, at first, maybe. It's gonna get harder before it gets easier, and – shit, I _hate_ this for you – there's nothing that can prepare you for it. Not even me. I'm sorry." Burt hung his head and mumbled, "Fuck."

 

"You think we're going to make it through this, though, right?" Kurt asked, slow and careful. "I mean, I know stuff like this, losing a child, can destroy a marriage. I don't – I can't lose Blaine, too." Tears welled up in his eyes at the thought. A Blaine-less world was a very gray world, indeed, and one that he never, ever wanted to be privy to.

 

"I don't know the answer to that, son. I – if there was anything I could do, any way I could take your grief and make it mine –"

 

"Dad …" Kurt reached out to squeeze his dad's hand as tightly as he could. Burt squeezed back.

 

"All I can tell you is to fight with everything you've got, as long as you've got something left to fight for."

 

"There always will be, with him," Kurt said softly, twisting his wedding band around his finger. "It's _Blaine_."

 

His dad gave him a wan smile. "I know it is. I know you guys are one in a million – there just aren't a whole lotta couples like the two of you, but that doesn't mean that you're immune to everything. When I said fight – sometimes that means giving in."

 

Kurt looked at him quizzically. He didn't think his dad had ever told him to give _in_ to anyone before…

 

"I'm not just talkin' about you, either. I know Blaine can be just as pigheaded as you can be, both of you are stubborn as mules, and – I don't know, Kurt, you're gonna hurt in different ways, and you're gonna deal with this in different ways. It'll take time to figure it all out. Just – be patient with each other while you do, okay?"

 

"Of course we will. Dad, we're _good_ at being patient with each other."

 

But Burt shook his head. "No, Kurt, this is different. You've never been through something like this before – hurt like this can change you, make you bitter, make you mean. When I said you'd deal with this in different ways – there's a good chance that you could _hate_ the way that Blaine navigates his grief, and vice versa. Something like this requires a little more grace for each other than your average bump in the road."

 

Kurt took a long drink of his coffee, allowing himself time to ruminate on everything his dad had just said. It sounded foreign and wrong, Blaine's name and the word 'hate' in the same sentence, but his dad was usually so wise …

 

Burt sighed. "Look, I gotta pee, and you look like you could use a minute … they got a restroom in there I can use?"

 

"Yeah," Kurt said, swallowing his coffee. "It's in the back of the shop."

 

Burt patted the top of his hand. "Okay, kiddo. I'll be right back."

 

Kurt leaned down to scratch Romeo's ears as his dad got up. "You've been a good boy this morning," he told the puppy softly. "We'll get you a treat on the way home."

 

Then he heard his father's familiar voice coming through the open door of the shop, surprisingly clear over the hubbub of morning traffic.

 

"– saw what you did earlier, letting us have that coffee without ringing us up," he was saying to Braxton. Kurt peered through the door, and saw his dad lay a few bills on the counter.

 

"No, sir, your coffee was on the house this morning," Braxton said politely. Kurt's heart plummeted to his shoes at his words – he hadn't even noticed that they didn't charge him for their drinks.

 

"Son, I insist –"

 

"Listen, Mr. – Hummel, right? Kurt's the Hummel side of the Anderson-Hummel?" Braxton asked. "Anyway, Kurt and Blaine are some of our best, most loyal customers – Blaine comes here and writes, sometimes reads us little excerpts of his books. Seeing Romeo is the highlight of Wendy's day. We've got another girl who works here – Chay's her name – who wants to go into fashion, and Kurt always comes in and tells her stories, gives her tips on the business. So when I say I don't need your money? It's just me, as one of Kurt's friends, trying to do something nice for him when I don't really know what else to do."

 

Kurt ducked his head as soon as Braxton looked toward him, feeling ashamed of eavesdropping, but when his eyes darted back up, Braxton was still looking at him meaningfully.

 

"Oh," Burt said. "Well that's –" he broke off for a moment. "Thank you for caring about my boys. Keep an eye on them for me after I leave, will you?"

 

"We will," Wendy answered, and Kurt could see her warm smile, and her hand giving Burt's a quick squeeze. "We'll be happy to."

 

* * *

**Monday, July 3 rd, 2023**

"You're _sure_ you guys will be okay? I talked to John, and he said he could handle the shop for another week if I need him to," Burt said, gripping Kurt's shoulders hard while looking straight into his eyes.

 

"Dad, your lives have to go on. You have the shop and Carole can't keep calling into work –"

 

"None of that is as important as you and Blaine are."

 

Kurt sighed. " _Go_ ," he ordered, rolling his eyes at his dad's arched eyebrow. He didn't typically take a commanding tone with his dad, didn't try to boss him around, but when the shoe fit… "We'll be okay. It might take us awhile to get there, but we will be. Besides, Carole might kill you if you unpack all that luggage after she worked so hard to fit everything in …" He gestured to the pile of suitcases by the door.

 

Burt threw his arms around his son and squeezed tight while Kurt buried his face in his dad's shoulder, wishing with all his might that he and Blaine could fly back with them and hide out in Kurt's old bedroom for the rest of their lives.

 

"We love you, sweetheart," Carole was saying beside them, cupping Blaine's cheeks in both her hands. "If you need anything, anything at _all_ , don't hesitate to call, okay?"

 

"You guys know I can come back up here whenever," Finn said, pushing Burt away to wrap Kurt in a tight hug. He sighed into Finn's shoulder – his brother could be a stupid oaf sometimes, but Kurt couldn't ever deny that he cared. "I don't have to do anything at school 'til late August when the inservices start, so my summer's wide open."

 

"Thanks, Finn. We really appreciate that," Kurt said sincerely, looking up into Finn's eyes.

 

Blaine managed to squirm out of Carole's grasp long enough to take Kurt's hand.

 

"As much as I love an emotional goodbye, you guys are gonna miss your flight if you're not careful. It's four o'clock now, and you know how crazy traffic is. Go. And call us when you get home to let us know you're safe, okay?" he said, squeezing Kurt's fingers. Kurt squeezed back.

 

As soon as the Hummel-Hudsons walked out the door, Kurt and Blaine both let out a huge breath, relief oozing from both of them.

 

"God, I love them so much, but it is _exhausting_ trying to pretend everything is normal and when it's not," Kurt sighed, resting his head on Blaine's shoulder.

 

"Bed?" Blaine asked.

 

"Bed."

 

Once they were curled under the soft sheet, they fell asleep in their clothes and didn't wake up until morning.

 

* * *

 

**Tuesday, July 4 th, 2023**

**From: Rachel**

**Happy Independence Day! I know it's been an awful week, but I was hoping the two of you might join me for an impromptu trio performance in Central Park later – you're the only two boys I'd trust not to screw up the National Anthem.**

**From: Rachel**

**I'm making potato salad – I'll even bring some with bacon in it for Blaine.**

**From: Rachel**

**Kurt, you haven't talked to me since your dad left.**

**From: Rachel**

**I'm worried about you…**

 

Kurt smacked his phone, knocking it off the bedside table into the floor, and pulled the sheet over his head.

 

* * *

 

"Feel like Chinese?"

 

"No." Blaine's voice was muffled by the pillow that he'd pressed his face into.

 

"Feel like Thai?"

 

"No."

 

"Pizza?"

 

"No."

 

"Feel like eating anything?"

 

"No, not really."

 

"Yeah. Me neither."

 

* * *

 

"Fucking fireworks."

 

Blaine stood at the window, glaring at the brightly colored explosions that lit up the sky.

 

"Are they keeping you awake?"

 

"They're making me crazy. They're just so … bright. And happy. It feels wrong, like nothing in the world should ever get to be happy again."

 

"I hope we get to be happy again, Blaine."

 

Blaine didn't answer, just glared at the sky as another firework burst open, a starburst of red and white light glittering the sky.

 

"Come back to bed. You're making me antsy, staring out the window like that."

 

* * *

 

**Wednesday, July 5 th, 2023**

"I smell terrible," Kurt announced to the ceiling in their bedroom. It was the first time he'd ever worn the same clothes for more than twenty-four consecutive hours, and he was going on forty-eight.

 

"Do you care?"

 

"Not a damn bit."

 

* * *

 

"How long does it take to starve?"

 

"That's a morbid question," Blaine said.

 

"It's a pertinent question. We haven't eaten since Monday afternoon."

 

"Still morbid. And honestly, I have no idea. You want to order out or something?"

 

"No, I'm not hungry," Kurt said, lifting his arm above his head and gracefully turning his wrist in a circle. "I think it'd be kind of a beautiful way to die, starving. You'd just – disappear, wouldn't you?"

 

"You'd _wither_ ," Blaine said fiercely, suddenly appearing in Kurt's field of vision. "You are _not_ leaving me, do you understand? We're ordering a pizza."

 

Kurt kept quiet after that, and Blaine was so tired after his outburst that he never even noticed when Kurt picked the cheese off his veggie slice and merely licked the tomato sauce off the back, salty and tangy on his tongue.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kurt and Blaine try to muddle through and decide to read Abby's letter.

**Chapter 14**

 

**Thursday, July 6 th, 2023**

"Blaine, we have to get up."

 

Blaine rolled over, poking his head out from under the sheet. "Why?"

 

"Because we're rotting. Because Romeo's pee pads are stinking up the condo. Because everybody's worried about us. Because we can't spend the rest of our lives in bed. And because – being miserable is kind of boring."

 

"Fine. _You_ get up then, if you're so bored," Blaine snapped angrily.

 

"Come on – you don't think a shower might make you feel better?" Kurt asked. "I feel _filthy_."

 

"We _are_ filthy, Kurt. But I'm more than happy to lie in my own filth right now. We should be singing to our baby. We should be complaining about how tired we are and fighting over her clothing budget and watching her sleep. But we're not, are we? So no, I don't think that taking a _shower_ is going to make me feel any better." Blaine rolled back over and pulled the pillow over his head, letting his arm flop back down to the mattress.

 

Kurt sighed and bent to kiss Blaine's exposed shoulder, then dragged himself to a sitting position, lights prickling in the back of his eyes, his vision going funny for a moment. He slid his feet carefully to the floor, the hardwoods cold against his skin, and steadied himself before pushing up off the nightstand. He wobbled only once before making his way to the bathroom, casting a worried look over his shoulder at the lump that Blaine made under the sheet.

 

* * *

 

"Blaine? Blaine, come on –"

 

Blaine glared up at his husband, whose hair was dripping cold droplets of water on his face. "What?"

 

Kurt smiled softly, running his hand over Blaine's greasy curls. "You know I love you, honey, but now that I'm clean, you smell even worse. Please take a shower for me?"

 

"Will you get off my case if I do?" Blaine asked grumpily.

 

"I swear," Kurt answered. "I'll even strip the bed and put a clean set of sheets on it while you're in the bathroom."

 

"Fine, but only if you promise to eat something."

 

Kurt sighed. "Deal."

 

* * *

 

Kurt was opening a pack of saltine crackers when Blaine came into the kitchen, towel drying his hair.

 

"See?" he asked, holding up the box. "Food."

 

"I'm not sure if saltines can be considered a meal, but I'm glad you're eating _something_ ," Blaine said, plopping down on a barstool. He looked _weary_ , and Kurt was worried. Blaine hadn't done enough to look that tired. "I was thinking about Vi in the shower. It's almost like she's dead, but – worse, in a way."

 

Kurt looked up warily from his crackers. If Blaine was taking this in the direction Kurt thought he was taking it …

 

"Like, when somebody dies," Blaine continued, "You stay busy afterward. You have a funeral to plan, and arrangements to make. We don't have anything. We don't get closure. We don't get anything."

 

"Blaine, she isn't dead," Kurt said.

 

"No, but she might as well be."

 

Kurt felt his face flaring red with anger. "Don't you dare say that. You have no idea what you're talking about."

 

Blaine shrugged. "I'm just saying. That's how it feels."

 

"We didn't _bury_ her, Blaine," Kurt said, getting angrier. "She's not in the ground. She's still alive and breathing – it's not the same."

 

"It _feels_ the same, Kurt – when my aunt died –"

 

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you stayed in bed for a fucking week, you were practically comatose," Kurt snapped, not particularly caring how Blaine was _feeling_ at the moment. "But you aren't the only one who's lost someone here – my _mother_ died. When I was _eight_."

 

"Yeah, _I'm aware_. But it's like you think that because you lost her before I lost Aunt Laura, you get to be the authority on death, and how to deal with it. You always try to make our lives a damn competition over who's been hurt more, and it's not fair! At least the family you have left _loves_ you," Blaine said, his hands shaking. "Your mom fought tooth-and-nail through _chemo_ to stay with you. _My_ mom? When I came to her and my dad at fourteen, scared out of my mind, and told her I thought I was gay? She smacked me across the cheek. It was like I didn't even have a mom after that, you _know_ that."

 

"And you're accusing _me_ of making our lives a competition?" Kurt demanded, blinking back hot, angry tears. "Well hello, pot, I'm kettle. Oh, look – _we're both black_." He took a deep breath and looked down, fingers tracing over the rough edge of the granite countertop, guilt swirling heavy and dark in his gut. He remembered what his dad had told him the week before about patience, about potentially hatingthe way Blaine might deal with things, and it made him nauseated, realizing that his dad hadn't been wrong. "I – I'm sorry. I hate acting like this; I _hate_ fighting with you. We've never acted like this before."

 

"Well how the fuck are we _supposed_ to act? I don't know what the fuck I'm doing anymore. I feel _dead_ inside. But if it would make you _happier_ ," Blaine spat angrily, "I could play the dapper Dalton man again, just like my dad always wanted. Smear some gel in my hair, pull my tie so tight I can barely breathe – do you want me to wear that mask again? Do you miss that _confidence_ , Kurt, even though it was a lie? Because I can try my hand at acting again –"

 

Kurt felt like smacking Blaine across the cheek himself. "No. No, of _course not_. I'm not saying I want you to act some other way, and I never want you to hide behind a _crest_ again – I'm just saying I don't know. I _hate_ this. I hate feeling angry. I hate that I haven't been hungry in a week. I hate staying in bed all day, feeling miserable –"

 

" _Fine_ , then, let's get _up_! Let's go run a marathon, Kurt, let's volunteer at a fucking soup kitchen or a children's hospital, because _that_ will make it all better – just drag me out of bed wherever you want me to go, 'cause apparently _my_ lazy ass is – what did you say, Kurt, _boring_ you? Making you _miserable_?"

 

"You're twisting my words and you know it, Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed, letting out a strangled cry of frustration. "I just think we'd both feel better if –"

 

"Shut _up_!" Blaine roared, swinging his hands down on the countertop so hard that the salt and pepper shakers jumped. " _You_ don't get to decide what does or doesn't make me feel better, _you_ don't –" He cut himself off when he looked up, breathing heavily with the effort of shouting. "Shit, Kurt –"

 

Kurt was terrified. Not that Blaine would hit him – Blaine would never hit him – but that Blaine was so out of control, so far gone from his normal calm, collected self that Kurt hardly even recognized the man standing in front of him. He backed away, his arms wrapped tight around his torso as if somehow that would hold him together. "Never," he whispered, his voice shaking, "in thirteen years have you _ever_ told me to shut up and meant it."

 

"I know." Blaine's voice broke. "God, I – I'm sorry –"

 

"I can't even remember the last time you yelled at me like that," Kurt continued, his voice a little stronger. "I don't know if you've _ever_ yelled at me like that."

 

"I know. I'm sorry – I didn't mean to yell, baby. I just – I don't know how –"

 

“I need to take a walk, I think,” Kurt said. The condo, a home bigger than they'd ever dreamed of having, felt like it was closing in on him.

 

He walked to the front door and slammed it behind him, leaving his open pack of crackers on the counter, untouched. Blaine didn't voice a word of protest as he left.

 

Kurt ran down the steps, taking two and three at a time, and burst out the door. The sunlight nearly blinded him after being inside with the lights off for three days in a row, and he paused, blinking the tears away, happy to be able to breathe again.

 

Kurt wasn't ready to think about Blaine, so he thought of his mother instead as he walked down the sidewalk, losing himself in the bustle of pedestrians. Most of his memories of her were really stories passed to him by his dad, but there were a few things that he knew were real. He could still hear her voice any time he heard a Beatles song – if he closed his eyes, he could see her, clear green eyes shining as she sang "Here Comes the Sun" while he sat on the piano bench beside her. And when he was sick, especially, tucked into bed with blankets around his chin, he thought he could remember the feeling of her soft chestnut hair against his cheek before it all fell out, just one more thing taken by the medication that couldn't save her life.

 

He missed her _so_ much – he hadn't felt the ache this deep since he was in high school, since before he met Blaine. He wished he'd gone home with his dad and Carole – at least he'd have been able to visit her grave that way.

 

He plopped down on a park bench – he must've walked into Tompkins Square Park without even realizing it – and looked around him. A slight breeze blew through the leaves above him, making them rustle quietly, and birds in the tree whistled in response. A deep ache shot through him, starting in his heart and pumping down his arteries all the way through long, graceful fingers and the tips of his toes.

 

" _Blackbird, fly_ ," he half-murmured, half-sang under his breath, then leaned forward, rested his head in his hands, and prayed to his mother for grace.

 

He pictured her listening attentively while sitting on the ground in front of him, floral skirt spread and Kelly green cable knit making her eyes flash, eternally young and flawless at 33. The exact way he remembered her on the day of the picnic when she'd brought out plastic champagne flutes, sparkling white grape juice and strawberries. It was the day before she found out she was sick.

 

She never talked back to him, now – he had no idea what she'd say to him – but every time he came to her like this, she rose from her spot, placed a hand on his cheek, and kissed the top of his head like she'd done when he was small before walking away and leaving him with a bit of her warmth.

 

It was ludicrous, talking to an image that didn't exist, his head tingling for minutes afterward when there was nothing there. Kurt wasn't hallucinating – he knew she wasn't real, but like in most fairy tales, he could wish her into existence if he just wished hard enough, and like most fairy godmothers, she always found a way to make it better.

 

He hoped, as he stood and walked away from the bench, that he could find a way to wish Blaine back into existence, to make him better as well.

 

* * *

 

Blaine was sitting at the piano [playing](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d1uMFlRkRmk) with his eyes closed when Kurt got home an hour later. He silently toed off his shoes as he listened and nodded to himself, warm with the knowledge that there were many ways to pray.

 

The floor squeaked as he tiptoed into the room and Blaine looked up, eyes wide with something that looked like relief. He took his hands off the keys, but Kurt stopped him, holding up a hand. "No. Finish. It's pretty."

 

Kurt settled beside him on the piano bench as he finished the song, closing his eyes and getting lost in the music. He didn't open them again until Blaine spoke.

 

"I was a little worried that you weren't coming back," Blaine confessed softly, looking down at the piano keys, shiny in the afternoon sun. "I – Kurt, I'm sorry –"

 

"Oh, _Blaine_ – how many times have I promised that I'll never say goodbye to you?" Kurt asked, his hands instinctively moving to Blaine's back, rubbing comfort into his skin. "I don't think I could leave you even if I tried. My body – I – nothing feels right when you're not there," he stammered, trying to explain.

 

Blaine nodded, turned his head, and buried his face in Kurt's shoulder.

 

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, his voice a little muffled. "I shouldn't have – I'm so sorry I yelled, Kurt. I can't believe I told you to shut up. I can't believe I compared this to Violet dying. I – I'm such a moron –"

 

" _Shhh_ , no," Kurt whispered. "I had a talk with my mom," he murmured into Blaine's curls. "While I was sitting in the park."

 

"Oh?" Blaine asked. He sat up and carefully met Kurt's gaze, and his eyes slowly warmed to the color of sourwood honey. Kurt could drown in them if he wasn't careful.

 

"I told her that I felt like we were breaking. I told her how mad I was at you, how badly this all _hurts_ – how I don't know if I can survive it."

 

"Did it help?" Blaine asked.

 

"It always helps," Kurt answered. "But then I realized, if we keep this up – I won't just be losing Violet, I'll be losing you, too. My mom – she would want me to be patient with you. She was so patient, Blaine. She would never have walked out. I wish I was more like her …"

 

"You _are_ like her," Blaine said. "You have her goodness, right here." Kurt's heart thumped under the pressure of Blaine's hand, firm on his chest. "Burt tells me all the time."

 

Kurt closed his hand over Blaine's. His husband was wrong, as was his dad, but if the men in his life wanted to believe a lie too beautiful to be true, who was he to argue? He suddenly felt very, very small under the memory of his mother, immortalized and perfect. "Tell me we're going to be okay."

 

Blaine paused, too long. "I – I can't, Kurt. I don't know."

 

Kurt nodded slowly. "This is the kind of thing that burns people up from the inside out, isn't it?"

 

"God, it feels like it."

 

"I'm not ready to burn, Blaine," Kurt whispered.

 

"Then let's go hide from the fire in the bathtub for a while," Blaine said, his fingers tracing along the outline of Kurt's cheek and jaw. Kurt leaned into his touch like a cat begging to be petted again.

 

"Okay," Kurt whispered again, content to let Blaine be the strong one for the moment. Marriage, he'd learned over the past six years, was a refined practice of ebb and flow, push and pull, give and take. He wasn't going to complain if Blaine wanted to do the giving for the moment.

 

As Kurt leaned against the bathroom sink, Blaine tested the temperature of the water and undid buttons with deft fingers and pulled the jasmine bath bomb off the shelf without Kurt even having to ask. They climbed into the tub together and settled in the water – there was a moment of limbs gone wild, legs and feet slipping over the edge, splashing water to the floor until Kurt leaned back against Blaine and Blaine tucked his thighs around Kurt's hips and they slotted together like a two-piece puzzle.

 

Kurt hoped, as the water lapped at his chest, that if they could just remember those pieces, the ebb and the flow and the giving, maybe they could conquer the fires of hell together instead of burning apart. Maybe they'd end up like the story of the Burning Bush from the Bible – set aflame, but not consumed by the fire. Or maybe like a phoenix, burned and charred but reborn from the ashes. Either way, he was determined to make it out on the other side, and he'd drag Blaine kicking and screaming if he had to.

 

* * *

 

Blaine gasped as he roused, uncomfortable and cold and disoriented, curled around Kurt's body. "Whazzat?" he mumbled, wiping his fingers over his eyes, then rapidly blinked as water flooded them. " _Shit_ ," he muttered, sloshing water over the side of the tub as he reached for a towel, slowly getting his bearings.

 

He shifted, trying to reach just a little farther, which caused Kurt to slip deeper into the water. He slung an arm around Kurt's torso just before his head sunk under, effectively waking him with a start. There was a moment of frenzy, cold water splashing everywhere as Kurt nearly clocked Blaine in the face as he grabbed for the side of the tub.

 

"Oh my god," Kurt gasped once he was righted, "What the _hell_?"

 

"I think we fell asleep in here," Blaine groaned, stretching stiff limbs. "God, I am a _prune_."

 

"So am I," Kurt said miserably, looking at his wrinkled hands as he shivered. "I'm so cold – how long do you think it takes a person to get hypothermia?"

 

"Let's not wait long enough to find out." Blaine's teeth chattered as he pulled himself from the cold water and threw a towel to Kurt.

 

As Kurt was drying off, Blaine tugged on a pair of pajama pants. "Come in the living room when you're dressed!" he called, grabbing a fleece blanket from the basket beside an end table. Seconds later, Kurt trotted down the hall, throwing himself on the couch beside Blaine, and whistled for Romeo.

 

"There," Kurt said, still shivering as the puppy hopped into his arms, "We've got body heat, blanket heat, and puppy heat – that should do it, right?"

 

"God, I hope so," Blaine said, tugging him closer. "Remind me never to fall asleep in a tub ever again." He was freezing – his nose and his toes and the tips of his fingers felt like ice cubes in spite of the blazing heat outside. And there was an idea – maybe they could go outside, but Kurt was warm and cozy and the blanket was so soft, and –

 

"How long were we in there, anyway? What time is it?"

 

Blaine glanced up at the clock, rubbing his feet together to try to get the circulation moving. "It's seven – we were asleep for almost two and a half hours. No wonder we're cold."

 

"I can't believe we just fell asleep in a bathtub," Kurt grumbled, shifting next to Blaine.

 

"I'm not. It was a nice bath."

 

"I guess we might as well do something productive with our time while we're warming up."

 

"What, like rewatch Cycle Two of America's Next Top Model?" Blaine asked with a small smile. "I know you love Yoanna."

 

His smile faded when Kurt looked up at him seriously. "I think we should read Abby's letter."

 

Blaine sucked in a breath of air. "Kurt, no. I'm not ready. I don't – do we have to ruin the night? We've already fought once today, I –"

 

"Blaine," Kurt said gently, "I really think we should get it over with. It's been hanging over my head for days now."

 

"But –"

 

"Please?" Kurt asked, his eyes wide and vulnerable.

 

Blaine's heart sank and melted as he looked into Kurt's eyes, blue like the sky and the sea and precious gemstones. "That's not fair, Kurt, you know I can't ever resist you when you look at me like that –"

 

"Please, Blaine?" Kurt repeated.

 

"Fine," he said with a sigh, leaning his head back against the arm of the couch and staring up at the ceiling. Sometimes it was easier to give in than put up a fight, he decided that it wasn't worth the conflict.

 

"I'll be right back."

 

Blaine felt the cushion dip and spring back as Kurt climbed out from under the blanket, and he rolled over and pulled their squirmy puppy close. Romeo whined in the confinement of Blaine's arms, and Blaine finally let him go. He ran to Kurt, who was just entering the room again.

 

"It's written on pink stationary," Kurt said viciously as he made his way back toward the couch, tearing the envelope open, Romeo at his heels. "What a _child_."

 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Blaine asked as Kurt tucked himself on the other side of the couch, stretching the blanket taut to cover both of them and sliding his socked feet up Blaine's calves. Romeo jumped up and lay down on Kurt's chest.

 

"We've got to read it sometime," Kurt said, petting the puppy.

 

"We actually don't _have_ to read it," Blaine said, but Kurt didn't listen.

 

He took a deep breath, then laughed out loud. "Oh, God, drama already – she left _tear marks_ on this paper, Blaine. She got everything she wanted – what the hell did she have to cry about?"

 

Blaine just shook his head.

 

"Dear Blaine and Kurt," Kurt read. The paper shook in his hands a bit. "I hardly know how to begin a letter like this …"

 

_I know you've got to be angry with me for doing this to you. I'm sorry – I really, really am, but not sorry enough to take back what I decided. My_

_mistake wasn't wanting to be Violet's mom – it was not telling you about it sooner. I've been having doubts about the adoption for a long time now,_

_and I convinced myself it was all going to be okay. Obviously it wasn't._

_I'm sorry for what you must be feeling right now, but I can promise you that it's only a fraction of the pain that I was in after you took Violet home with_

_you. I felt raw, sick, like a piece of my body had been ripped off, the wound left gaping open. It hurts. I know. And I'm sorry for stringing you along for_

_so long that you're feeling kind of like that, too._

Blaine continued to stare at the ceiling as Kurt read. The ball of grief that hadn't ever left the pit of his stomach was fast turning to angry stone, bitter and hard and unyielding. He clenched the blanket in his fists as Kurt continued.

 

_I don't want you to worry about her. I'm her mom – I love her more than anybody in this world could ever love her. There's no way she's ever going to_

_want for anything. My family is supportive, and so is Micah, even though his family isn't, and she's going to have a lot of people around her who love_

_her._

_I'd like two of those people to be you._

Blaine's head snapped up. "What?"

 

Kurt's eyes narrowed as he read down the page. "Oh, fuck you," he murmured before starting to read again.

 

_I'd like to offer you the same courtesy that you offered me – I'll send pictures of her if you want, and you can come visit her, see how she grows. I_

_know I sort of took her from you without warning, and I don't know if you had time to say a proper goodbye or anything, so anytime you want to see_

_her, that's okay with me. It's not you guys I have a problem with – I just need to be the one raising her._

Blaine's heart was hammering an angry _thud-thud-thud_ in his chest as he listened to Kurt's voice read the vile words.

 

_I hope that you can find it in your hearts to forgive me. I carried her inside me for almost forty weeks, and the day she was born, she stared into my_

_eyes and it was a connection like I never even imagined. I just can't be apart from her – I don't care what that means for my plans to be a doctor or_

_college or anything at all – I just want to be her mom. That's all. And I'm so sorry I hurt you in the process._

_Let me know when you want pictures or if you want to see her._

_I'm sorry again._

_-Abby_

The silence in the room crushed them as Abby's apology hung over them in the air. Blaine lay on the couch, trying to decide if it would be better to just give up, to never move from that spot again, or to rage and throw things and try to get his anger out. He was still waffling when Kurt finally spoke.

 

"Part of me wants to kill her. Like, in an actual crazy-person, go-to-prison sort of way."

 

"Kurt –"

 

"But that wouldn't help, because then Violet wouldn't have any sort of parents to speak of at all – but maybe they'd let you raise her? And we could have conjugal visits?"

 

Blaine propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at his husband. "Kurt, I don't think –"

 

"And then part of me feels almost sorry for her, like she's just this stupid eighteen-year-old, but honestly, Blaine, who _writes_ a letter like that?"

 

Blaine shrugged. "Apparently –"

 

"But mostly," Kurt barreled on, "I just – I want her back, Blaine. I want my baby _here_ –"

 

Blaine sat up the rest of the way and pulled Kurt closer, cradling him as he started to cry.

 

"I want her back," Kurt sniffled, "and this is just like a slap in the face – Blaine, say something. You're not saying anything."

 

Blaine felt the angry ball in his stomach soften – only for Kurt, always for Kurt. "Maybe that's because you're not letting me," he said gently.

 

Kurt looked up, sheepish. "Oh."

 

"Oh," Blaine agreed. "Look, I'm not sure what you want me to say. I didn't want to read it. I wish we _hadn't_ read it. I – I'm pissed. I'm fucking _pissed off_ , Kurt, and I'm afraid that I'm never going to be able to feel anything else again –"

 

"Then feel this," Kurt said, his voice still shaky. He reached for Blaine's hand and Blaine let him take it, placing it on the left side of his chest. Blaine could feel the familiar toned muscle underneath his shirt, and under that, Kurt's heart beating beneath his ribcage. "For five days, my heart beat for her – but just because she's gone, I _swear_ it's not going to stop beating for you."

 

* * *

 

"What if we took her up on the offer?" Blaine asked a few hours later, his head pillowed in Kurt's lap.

 

Kurt tore his gaze from their TV screen, where Ellen Page was building a city in her dreams, and narrowed his eyes at Blaine.

 

"I'm just saying – maybe it would be easier. Being able to see her. Don't you want to see her again, Kurt?"

 

"Not like that, I don't!" he exclaimed. "Not at the whims of an 18-year-old who's already proven to be flippant and untrustworthy!"

 

"I just –"

 

" _Blaine_ ," Kurt said firmly, "I want a _daughter_ or a _son_. Not a niece, not a goddaughter, not a sweet little acquaintance that I see on holidays and in photographs. If Violet's going to be in our lives, we're going to raise her, all or nothing. And I know that's what you want too."

 

Blaine sighed and pressed his face to Kurt's stomach. "You're right. Of course I want a child of our own. You – I just –"

 

"I know, honey. You want _her_."

 

* * *

 

"Maybe you were right," Kurt said, pacing restlessly around their bedroom. "Maybe it would be easier if we could see her."

 

"Kurt, no –"

 

"Maybe – do you think we'll ever get the chance to adopt again?"

 

"I don't know if I ever _want_ the chance to adopt again," Blaine sighed, fanning his arms and legs out so he was nearly covering the entire bed. "I can't do this a second time, Kurt."

 

"Well maybe this is our only chance at being a part of a child's life, then. Maybe – I don't know, we could be like the cool uncles or something."

 

Blaine lifted his head. "Cool uncles? Really?"

 

"Yeah, I don't know, we could – take her shopping when she gets older? Keep her when Abby wants to go on vacation?"

 

"You just told me you didn't want a niece," Blaine said, sitting up all the way and grabbing Kurt's hand as he walked past, stilling him. "We were supposed to be her _parents_ , Kurt."

 

Kurt sighed and flopped down on the bed beside Blaine. "And you don't think that this might be the universe telling us that we're not cut out to be parents?"

 

" _Don't_ ," Blaine said harshly, tugging his husband close. "Don't you dare – I watched you as a dad for almost a week, Kurt, and you were better than I even dreamed – I don't know what this is, or what it means, but it doesn't mean that."

 

Kurt let his back rest against Blaine's chest and leaned his head on Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine tucked his chin down next to Kurt's face. "We'll never be satisfied with what Abby wants to offer," he murmured softly.

 

"Will we ever be satisfied with anything that isn't Violet again?"

 

Blaine sighed. "I don’t think there's an answer to that yet."

 

* * *

 

"I can't sleep," Blaine grumbled, turning over for the hundredth time that night.

 

"So I've gathered." A pause. "I can't sleep either."

 

"I'm so mad."

 

"I know," Kurt said gently.

 

"Do you?" Blaine fumed. "Because you seem so _calm_ , Kurt, about all of this. And I'm like – like, this ball of fury – I feel like I'm going to explode about every other minute –"

 

"I'm only calm on the outside," Kurt said quietly. "I'm sure I'll combust at some point or another."

 

Blaine laughed dryly. "We're just a couple of time bombs, aren't we?"

 

"Maybe we should warn our neighbors, in case one of us blows while they're at home …" Kurt trailed off. "I was trying to be funny," he explained a moment later, "but I guess it's not, is it?"

 

"I don't think so."

 

The room fell silent for a long moment. Normally a noisy afterthought, the night sounds outside their window – the occasional siren, the _whoosh_ of passing cars, a dog a few floors up barking loudly – swelled into a distracting cacophony.

 

"Let's go to the gym tomorrow," Kurt finally piped up when the sounds became too much. "You can punch things, and a little time on the treadmill would probably do me good, too."

 

"You have to eat, then," Blaine said, rolling to his side, his tone turning soft. His worry for Kurt overpowered his rage for everything else. "I can't have you passing out on me."

 

"Okay, okay, I'll eat."

 

"Good. You promise?"

 

"Cross my heart. Breakfast, in the morning."

 

Blaine wiggled to his back, held Kurt's hand between them, and closed his eyes.

 

" _Blaine_?" Kurt's whisper came a few moments later.

 

"Mmm?"

 

"Part of the reason I can't sleep is I'm always waiting for her to cry out."

 

Tears that Blaine thought _surely_ had dried up by then prickled behind his eyelids. "Yeah, me too."

 

"Do you think she's sleeping now?"

 

"She's probably just waking up for her three A.M. feeding," Blaine said, trying to keep his voice steady as he squeezed Kurt's hand tighter. "God, I hope Abby hears her – she always eats better if you catch her before she starts screaming …"

 

"I miss her so much," Kurt whimpered, rolling over to bury his face in Blaine's chest.

 

Blaine rubbed gentle circles into Kurt's scalp with his fingertips, choking back his own tears. "I know, I know, I do too."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which grief comes to Kurt and Blaine in many different forms, and Rachel does her best to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is EXTRA-long - forgive me. I get wordy sometimes.

**Chapter 15**

**Friday, July 7 th, 2023**

Kurt's feet were pounding heavily on the treadmill belt, the dry cereal he'd eaten that morning heavy in his stomach, when his phone lit up with Rachel's picture.

 

"Hello?" he answered, not bothering to slow his pace. Without Lady Gaga's bass line pounding through his earbuds, his pulse sounded like a washing machine inside his head. He suddenly felt very tired.

 

"Kurt? What are you doing?"

 

"What does it sound like I'm doing?" he panted.

 

Her voice took on a scandalous tone. "Are you having _sex_?"

 

Kurt laughed for the first time in days. His legs turned to Jell-O with the lack of focus, and he almost fell off the treadmill in his haste to turn the speed down. He laughed harder.

 

"Kurt?"

 

"I'm fine," he said, walking briskly, knowing he needed a cool-down before he went to sit, even though his side was now aching and his lungs were burning. "Rachel, do you really think I'd answer the phone if I were in the middle of _that_?"

 

"If you saw it was me, you might." Kurt could hear her grin at the other end of the line.

 

"You know I love you, but not quite that much," he said, echoing her smile. "Actually, we're at the gym. I'm on the treadmill."

 

"Oh! I'm glad – I was worried that the two of you were holed up in your condo being sad."

 

Kurt was quiet. That was exactly how they'd been spending their time, up until he sensed that Blaine's need for a long session with a heavy bag had become too great. And it wasn't like just because they went to the gym they were magically healed of all sadness. That wasn't how it worked. They were just being sad someplace besides home.

 

"Yeah. Well." He was so _tired._ He turned the treadmill down to an even lower setting, leaned with one arm against the handle as he walked.

 

Rachel paused. "… It's good you got out, at least. You should feel a little better; you know running releases all sorts of endorphins. Are you eating?"

 

"Some."

 

"I was afraid of that."

 

"Well …" Kurt wasn't sure what else to say; Rachel _knew_ he couldn't eat when he was stressed.

 

"I cooked for you," she said proudly. "Can I bring it over this afternoon, maybe?"

 

 _Wonderful_. Food that he wouldn't be able to eat, sitting, going bad in his fridge, being scraped into the trash. Making him feel guilty. He plastered on a smile, like he knew Blaine would. "Oh, Rach, you didn’t have to do that –"

 

"I _did_. I had to do _something_ , Kurt, I can't let my two best friends just wallow in misery with no food –"

 

"Okay, okay," he acquiesced. More than anything, he just wanted to get off the phone, off the treadmill. "You can come over. Be warned, though, the place is a disaster."

 

"Kurt, disaster to you is probably spick and span to the rest of the world. It'll be fine."

 

"No, _seriously_ Rachel, it's a _disaster_." He stopped the treadmill and bent over the control panel, resting his head on his arms. He wanted to go home, but he didn't want to go _home_ – they were living in squalor, and it disgusted him to think of the piles of dirty clothes, the dishes in the sink, Romeo's dirty pee pads on the floor. "I'll just – I'll try to clean some before you come, okay?"

 

Rachel's voice grew soft. "Oh, Kurt … Alright, I'll be over around four. Will you be home by then, or are you spending the day out?"

 

"What do you think?" he snapped, frustrated that she even had to ask. "What would we even do, Rachel, go to Barney's and cry all over their baby department? We're going home."

 

"I'm sorry. Kurt, I – god, I just – I don't know what to say …" Rachel trailed off, sounding lost.

 

Kurt sighed, scrubbing a hand through his sweaty hair. "I'm sorry, Rach. You don't have to say anything. I just – I kind of feel like the world is ending."

 

"Oh, sweetie …" Rachel sighed. "I can't imagine. I – I'll see you at four, okay?"

 

"'Kay."

 

Kurt hung up the phone and stared down at his feet. He refused to cry in the middle of the gym. Instead, with his Jell-O legs and his broken heart, he turned the treadmill back on. He upped the speed, too fast, until he was running at a full-on sprint. He was so broken, but also so angry – at himself, for losing his uncanny ability to function through anything, at the world, for not stopping on its axis, and ultimately at Abby, who shattered their hearts and ended their dream of being parents.

 

He jabbed his earbuds into his ears and turned his Lady Gaga playlist back on shuffle. The music blared in his ears, and he turned the treadmill up one speed faster as the lyrics started.

 

_I need somebody who calls my name_

_When clouds are smokin' up my way_

_You get me through these ch-changing skies_

* * *

 

"Blaine, honey, are you in here? I'm ready to go home – I've run so hard I think my legs are going to –" Kurt stopped in mid-sentence. "Blaine?" He was hunched over on a bench in the empty locker room with his eyes closed. "Are you alright?"

 

"It wasn't working," Blaine said, his voice flat. "I couldn't punch hard enough."

 

"What?"

 

"I took my gloves off. And untaped my hands." Blaine finally opened his eyes. "Pretty stupid, huh?" he asked, lifting them up for Kurt to see. Kurt walked over to him and gasped when he saw his knuckles. They were bleeding and swollen, the beginnings of angry, purple bruises beginning to emerge.

 

"Where were the trainers? I thought you weren't allowed to do that …"

 

Blaine shrugged. "They know me. Only one guy was working today. He had to go to the bathroom, asked if I'd be okay on my own for a few minutes. It doesn’t take long, Kurt." He sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking. I just – I wanted to feel better."

 

Kurt sat beside him on the bench and hugged him, their sweat mingling together. _He_ could understand what Blaine was thinking. It was why he pushed himself to the point of nearly throwing up on the treadmill just minutes earlier. He figured if he could make his body hurt badly enough, he wouldn't be able to feel his heart quite as much.

 

"Oh, honey," Kurt murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Blaine's sweat-damp head.

 

"I still don't feel any better at all," Blaine sighed. "I just feel _mad_."

 

"I know. Me too." Kurt stood, bending over Blaine and holding onto his shoulders. "Let's get you home, okay? I'll see if I can fix your fingers."

 

* * *

 

Blaine hissed and yanked his hand back as Kurt gently pressed a warm, soapy cloth to his knuckles. " _Jesus,_ that stings!"

 

"I know, but all we need is for you to get some crazy antibiotic-resistant bacteria from that stupid punching bag and land yourself in the ICU," Kurt said, not unkindly, as he tugged Blaine's hand back. "Hold still. It'll only hurt for a minute."

 

Blaine relented, wincing at the burn as the cloth dragged over his raw skin. It was his own fault, not Kurt's. He shouldn't have snapped at him.

 

"So, it looks like your middle knuckle might be jammed, but – can you move everything? Do you think anything's broken?" Kurt asked.

 

"No," he said, "nothing but my heart."

 

"Oh, _Blaine_ ," Kurt breathed, forgoing the washcloth and pulling him into an awkward hug.

 

Face smashed against Kurt's stomach, Blaine wiggled his fingers painfully. How could he have been so _stupid_? He knew better than to go at a heavy bag full-on with nothing protecting his hands. He sighed heavily. "I don't think I'm handling this as well as you are, Kurt," he said, looking at the floor when Kurt finally released him.

 

"Well they're your knuckles, not mine. I don't think –"

 

Blaine lifted his head, staring straight into Kurt's eyes. "You know that's not what I meant."

 

"I know," Kurt murmured, cupping Blaine's cheek in the palm of his hand. "I think you're doing fine, honey, considering the circumstances."

 

"Obviously I'm _not_ ," Blaine snapped, holding his injured hands up in front of Kurt's face. "What about this says 'healthy coping mechanism' to you, exactly?"

 

"It's not like I'm doing much better," Kurt said, and for some reason, the way he said it rubbed Blaine in exactly the wrong way. "When I was on the treadmill today –"

 

"I'm going to bed," Blaine said flatly, shoving his way past Kurt and falling forward onto their bed with a dull _thud_.

 

"Hey, I'm not done with you yet," came Kurt's gentle reply. Blaine felt the bed dip as Kurt sat down. "I'll buy you a cookie if you give me your hands," Kurt cajoled, and Blaine let him, extending his arms. He was listless, face pillowed in their duvet cover, as he felt Kurt smear antibiotic ointment on all the open places in his hands. "Does it hurt?"

 

"Little," Blaine grunted.

 

He shuddered slightly, tingles running up and down his arm as Kurt carefully rolled gauze around his hand, taped the end, then pressed a soft kiss to his palm. He lay still and quiet while Kurt tended to his other hand.

 

"I don't think I mentioned it, but Rachel called," Kurt said casually as he paid special attention to a particularly raw area. Blaine gritted his teeth against the pain. "She's coming over tonight."

 

Blaine let out a muffled groan into the fabric underneath him. He did not think that he could deal with Rachel Berry in any context right now, even as much as he loved her. She was a good friend, but at times a needy one, and while she'd grown up a lot since high school, she still liked to be flattered and pampered more than she liked to _do_ the flattering and pampering. He wasn't prepared to be sent on a guilt trip just because he didn't feel like saying her hair looked pretty that day.

 

"I don't really want to see anybody either," Kurt agreed, petting his hair, "but she cooked some meals for us. I think she's worried."

 

Blaine sighed. Apparently he'd been wrong – Rachel _was_ coming to do some pampering of her own, and the guilt he felt came from himself rather than from her. "Of course she's worried, Kurt," he finally said, turning his head sideways so he could see. "Look at us."

 

"I know." Kurt set the gauze and ointment on the nightstand and lay down next to Blaine. "We're a mess, aren't we?"

 

"Oh, god, we really are," Blaine groaned, rolling over to his back and throwing an arm across his face. He laid there for a few moments, not moving, the gauze on his hand scratchy against the side of his face. Inexplicably, he started to laugh.

 

"Blaine?"

 

"None of this is remotely funny, I know," he giggled, "but – I have _mummy hands_ , Kurt." He held his hands up above their heads. "My _haaahnds –_ " he said in a ghoulish voice, "they're going to _fiiiiind_ you."

 

"So you're a Transylvanian mummy, then?" Kurt asked, his eyes twinkling as he ducked out of the way of Blaine's opening and closing pincer grasp. "Because you sound like Dracula. Are we getting our monsters confused?"

 

"I _vaaant_ to _saaahk_ your _blaaahd_ ," Blaine moaned. " _Baaaht_ , zee crazy-ass Egyptians got ahold of me and _vanted_ to make me a _maaaahmy_ – I barely got _avay_!"

 

Kurt's beautiful laughter filled the room and made Blaine's heart swell in his chest. One moment of normal – they were _playing_ ; Blaine thought he'd never play again – and it was like the heavens opened up and gave them a rainbow in the midst of the worst storm they'd ever seen.

 

Blaine was still poking at Kurt's arms and belly with his gauze-covered hands, both of them giggling, when Kurt grabbed his wrists, stilling him.

 

"C'mere, you adorable vampire-mummy," he said, tugging him closer. Blaine scooted toward him and let himself be wrapped in Kurt's arms, tight and safe. "I love you. I missed playing with you like that."

 

"Me too," Blaine murmured. "I always imagined –" And just like that, the black cloud was back.

 

"Imagined what, honey?"

 

"Playing with Violet. With you. Like that. It was – I was really looking forward to it."

 

"Oh, Blaine … so was I."

 

His heart, momentarily buoyed by Kurt's laughter, was sinking down, down, down to the dark place again, and he was suddenly overcome with exhaustion.

 

"I think I'm gonna take a nap, okay?"

 

Kurt nodded sadly. "I need to clean up around here before Rachel comes, anyway."

 

Blaine rolled over, away from the comfort of Kurt's arms, and just before he closed his eyes, he saw a flash of something dark and worried in Kurt's.

 

* * *

 

Five minutes 'til four o'clock, a loud knock echoed through the condo. Kurt propped his broom and dustpan against the wall, opened the front door, and found himself smothering in Rachel Berry. Her hug was more overpowering than normal – she forced herself up on her tiptoes and _squeezed_ , and he felt like he couldn't get enough air. Her perfume was strong and one floral note too sweet and her hand came up to the back of his head, pressing his nose and mouth into her hair. It felt like he was trying to breathe through a curtain.

 

Ten long seconds later, she mercifully let go, set the bag she'd tossed aside on their kitchen counter and, in a very business-like and abrupt tone, asked, "Where's Blaine?"

 

"In bed, but –"

 

She didn't let him finish. He padded after her, curious exactly what she was going to do, and saw her fling herself onto the bed with Blaine and tug him into a hug as well.

 

Blaine's reaction was very different from his own. He pressed against her, the tips of his fingers digging into her back, and buried his face in her shoulder.

 

" _I'm so sorry_ ," she was whispering. " _I'm so, so sorry, Blaine_."

 

She let him cling for a while, and once when she looked up at Kurt, he gave her a quick, tight smile and mouthed, " _Thank you._ " He felt helpless – he didn't know what to do with his hands anymore if he wasn't holding Blaine; lately they'd been no good for sketching and his blood sugar was running a little too low all the time to be able to hold a needle and thread steady. So he went to the kitchen, where there were things to do.

 

He unloaded Tupperware dish after Tupperware dish, most of them frozen, each one's contents labeled with little pink Post-it notes, each adorned with a gold star sticker. Kurt smiled – as tiresome as Rachel could be at times, she was his best friend for a reason.

 

Just as he finished stacking the dishes neatly in the freezer, Rachel and Blaine padded into the room, Blaine holding Rachel's hand like a small child. Rachel was wiping away tears, and she gave a forlorn glance into the nursery as they walked past.

 

"Thanks for the food," Kurt told her. He felt awkward with her, as if he hadn't spent the past twelve years competing with her, overhauling her closets, keeping her secrets and sharing his, living with her and then near her, buying pints and gallons of comfort ice cream when the boys she dated didn't work out. Losing Violet changed _everything_ in his life, apparently.

 

"It was my pleasure. The least I could do," she said, her voice shaky. "Oh, I've been so _worried_ about the two of you!" She flung herself at Kurt for the second time that evening, but he was slightly more prepared this time, petting her back until she pulled away.

 

"You need to be with people," she lectured, swiping more tears from her eyes. "You don't need to isolate yourselves. You need to get out – this place isn't making you feel any better."

 

"I know, we just –" Blaine started, but Rachel wasn't finished.

 

"I know when I'm stressed out, I find exercise to be very helpful – but you've already done that today, haven't you? Cleaning can be extremely cathartic – have you thought about clearing out her nursery?"

 

"That isn't a welcome topic right now, Rachel," Kurt said quietly as Blaine bristled visibly.

 

"We are not. Touching. Her _things_ ," he practically snarled.

 

Rachel recoiled. "Ohh-kay," she stammered. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'll just – food. You should eat. Are you eating?"

 

"We – will now," Kurt said, eyeing Rachel's empty tote bag sitting on the floor.

 

"Oh, _Kurt_ ," she said, stepping forward again, but Kurt held his hand up.

 

"No offense, Rach," he said, "but I think I've met my people-who-aren't-Blaine touching quota for the day."

 

"Oh …" she trailed off, looking back and forth between Blaine and Kurt. "Of course. I'm sorry. I should've thought –"

 

"You know how I get when I'm stressed," he interrupted her. "I don't want to be touched. I can't eat. But – I know your food is good. I'll try."

 

"Good," she said, looking slightly more pleased. "Blaine, I –"

 

"I'm going back to bed." He cut her off, turning and retreating to the bedroom.

 

She stared after him.

 

"I'm sorry," Kurt explained after their bedroom door clicked shut, "he's – it's a bad day. It's – some days are harder than others, you know? This was a hard day."

 

"Kurt, you know you don't have to explain anything to me," she said, stopping herself before she touched his arm, but he saw her hand twitch towards him.

 

"I know."

 

"But, if you need to talk about anything –"

 

"I don't. He'll be fine. We're going to be fine," he said, telling himself as much as he was telling her.

 

"I know you are." A moment of awkward silence filled the room before Rachel gathered her tote bag into her arms and stammered, "I think – I might go now. I was hoping to stay and eat with you, but I don't think –"

 

"I'm sorry," Kurt said with a sigh, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

 

"No, no. It's – fine, really," she insisted, moving towards the door. "But Kurt?"

 

"Mmm?"

 

"Try to eat a little, okay? I'm afraid – I'm just – afraid. For both of you."

 

"Why's that?" he asked, folding his arms in front of his chest.

 

"Well – who's going to take care of you while you're taking care of him?"

 

"You know perfectly well that I can take care of myself," Kurt said, a little haughty.

 

"I know. But you shouldn't have to," Rachel said. "Call if you need anything, okay?"

 

Kurt stared at their front door, solid and wooden and a nice barrier to the world outside that no longer understood them at all. He wondered if either of them would ever figure out how to navigate contact with other people again.

 

* * *

 

Kurt's stomach rolled as the microwave beeped its signal, the smell of Rachel's curry already turning his stomach.

 

Normally, it was his favorite.

 

He took two bites before his throat felt like it was spasming, trying to force the food back up.

 

He scraped the food into a clean bowl, left the dirty one in the sink, and took the food into the bedroom to Blaine.

 

"Aren't you going to eat?" Blaine questioned, narrowing a pair of bloodshot eyes.

 

"I ate already. You know I like to sit at the table."

 

"I do too, but …" Blaine gestured toward his form, curled up in the blankets. "I think there are times for exceptions."

 

Kurt felt his face change, and in a rare moment of incognizance, had no idea what expression he wore. Whatever it was, Blaine dropped the subject, patting the bed next to him for Kurt to sit down. Kurt watched as he slowly ate his curry, dabbing at his mouth neatly with his napkin. When he was done, he gave Kurt a tired look and collapsed on the bed again, his head buried under his pillow like an ostrich in the sand.

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, July 8 th _,_ 2023**

It was ten o'clock in the morning, and Kurt was going out of his mind.

 

Blaine had finally passed out in the bed after the hard day continued into being a hard night, during which he'd tossed and turned and paced the floors and opened and closed the refrigerator door 27 times (Kurt had counted) and kept Kurt up for all of it.

 

He was glad that Blaine was finally sleeping, but he couldn't.

 

He stood in the kitchen, staring at the bowl of cereal with which he was fighting a losing battle. Just two bites and his throat was rebelling again, fighting against the milk that felt so cool and pleasant on his tongue. Another bite, and he was retching into the sink.

 

He gave up on eating, sat in Violet's room and cried a little. But after a few minutes, he decided that his eyes hurt, and he was tired of crying.

 

So he left a note on his pillow beside Blaine, grabbed Romeo's leash, and called his dad.

 

"Kurt – are you okay? Is Blaine okay?"

 

"Hello to you, too, Dad," Kurt said. He squinted as he adjusted to the bright sunlight, and beads of sweat popped up on his forehead – it was already eighty-five degrees outside. He made a mental note to stop for water for himself and Romeo sometime before he came home.

 

"Well, you go five days without calling, I'm gonna worry, kiddo, geez. How are you guys holding up?"

 

"Blaine had a long night. He's sleeping now. I'm – hanging in there."

 

"Doesn't sound like it to me."

 

"Dad." He paused. _Tired of crying, remember?_ "I feel crazy."

 

"You're not crazy, Kurt."

 

"I know I'm _not_ crazy, but I _feel_ crazy," he said, yanking on Romeo's leash as the puppy stopped in front of a food cart just down the block from their building. "You know what you said at the coffee shop that morning? About hating the way Blaine deals with this?"

 

"Mmmhmmm…"

 

"You may have been right. He's being …"

 

"He's being what, Kurt?"

 

"Difficult? But that's not even the right word for it. He just – _needs_ so much. Just like when his aunt died. But that was okay, because I wasn't grieving too, so I had a lot more to give. I – Dad, I sound awful for saying this, but I need some _space_."

 

Burt sighed into the phone. "Do you remember, for about a year after your mom died, when you'd go have tea parties with Mrs. Martin next door?"

 

Kurt's mind wandered back, and – yes, he could remember going next door, always dressed in slacks and a bowtie because it was proper to dress nicely when one was with ladies, especially nice, pretty ladies like Mrs. Martin, who reminded him of his mother, but a few years older.

 

"Yeah, I do."

 

"Do you know why you started going over there?"

 

"I don't think you ever mentioned it before."

 

"I needed time, Kurt. The Martins offered to do anything they could to help, especially Tracy, who was one of your mom's close friends. One day she found me in the backyard, just bawling my friggin' eyes out while I was watering flowers. Your mom's bleeding hearts started blooming a week after she died; how crazy is that?"

 

"Oh, Dad …"

 

"Anyway, she asked me what was wrong, other than the obvious, and I said I was hiding. From you. From my own son. I was so ashamed – you were what kept me getting out of bed, you know? But that day you were asking so many questions and we'd watched The Sound of Music twice already …"

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"Hey, no, don't you apologize, Kurt. You were just a kid. You were doing exactly what you were supposed to do."

 

Kurt sighed, guiding Romeo around a pack of tourists standing still in the middle of the sidewalk, their cameras all pointed to the sky. "So what happened with Mrs. Martin?"

 

"Well, she got this real resolute look in her eye, and she marched right into our house. And when she came out, she was holding your hand, and you told me you guys were going to have a tea party. And she did it once a week, for a year after that."

 

"Wow."

 

"Yeah, she was a real nice lady – I was sad to see them move away. I think you helped her during those tea parties as much as she helped me by taking you. But the point is, she knew I needed time for myself. You've _gotta_ make time for you, Kurt, or you're not going to be able to get through this, okay?"

 

"Do you – god, I feel like an asshole for even suggesting this – do you think Blaine would hate me if I went back to work?"

 

Burt paused for a long time.

 

"That's – work, wow, bud. That's not exactly what I meant. There's a difference between a couple hours a week and eight hours a day, you know?"

 

"I can start slower than that. I just – Dad, I've got to have a creative outlet. I've got to have some alone time. I – I love Blaine, but I feel like he's suffocating me. Last night, it was all I could do not to take his head off. I can't sleep when he tosses and turns and paces – he opened and closed the refrigerator twenty-seven times last night. _Twenty-seven times_."

 

"What for?"

 

"I don't know – I guess he doesn't know what else to do. He walks around the kitchen, opens the fridge, walks out into the living room, walks back, opens the fridge – I have no idea."

 

"Huh."

 

"And I can't nap during the daytime like he does. I'm going on all caffeine and no sleep and I'm doing _nothing_ during the day and it's starting to drive me crazy …"

 

"Listen, Kurt, if going back to work is what you think you need, then go for it. But – have you guys started grief counseling yet?"

 

"No, not yet, we're still trying to decide between a couple of counselors," Kurt said, then stopped in his tracks, making Romeo yelp as the leash pulled hard on his collar. He'd just told his dad a blatant lie. They hadn't even _discussed_ grief counseling.

 

"Okay. Well, make it a priority, Kurt. It's important, for both of you."

 

"I will."

 

"And, Kurt? Think about the work thing before you just go and do it, okay? I'm not saying don't do it, just – think about it first."

 

"I will, Dad. Thanks for letting me vent."

 

"Anytime. Love you."

 

"Love you, too."

 

* * *

 

The black cloud hadn't lifted when Blaine woke, stiff from the odd angle his arm had bent into during sleep. He saw the note Kurt left on the pillow beside him, and he wanted to crawl under the covers and never come out again. Kurt was gone.

 

 _He's coming back_ , he reminded himself, but the cloud got darker and the stone in his stomach got heavier.

 

 _Your fault your fault your fault_ his brain chanted at him, _too much, not enough, your fault._

 

Blaine sat up, tried to think rationally, but the rational thoughts weren't coming. Instead, his mind swam with darkness, thoughts that he knew weren't true, but that he couldn't stop. His eyes prickled with tears and he hated himself in that moment, hated himself for being weak, for being so much less than Kurt needed and deserved.

 

* * *

 

Blaine jumped when he heard the door unlock, lost in his own world on the couch.

 

"Where've you been?" he asked, tossing the magazine he hadn't even been reading to the side.

 

"Hey, honey – Romeo and I took a walk, and I called my dad. I just needed a little time to recharge." Kurt unhooked Romeo's leash, his face serene and free of the worried wrinkles that creased his forehead the night before when Blaine felt like he was going crazy. It made him want to throw things.

 

"And how'd that work out for you?" Blaine picked up one of Romeo's tennis balls and began bouncing it angrily, creating his own percussion as floor-wall-hand beat out a staccato rhythm.

 

"Probably better than that ball is working out for you," Kurt quipped. "You're going to make a dent in the wall."

 

Blaine scowled and bounced the ball towards Kurt's feet.

 

"Will you talk to me, please?" Kurt picked up the ball and threw it to Romeo. "Are you mad at me for leaving this morning?"

 

Blaine looked up. "I'm mad at _me_ for wanting you to stay," he admitted.

 

"Oh, honey, come here," Kurt sighed, grabbing Blaine's hand and tugging, but Blaine pulled away and ducked his head.

 

"It's just – all you all you had to do was take a _walk_ and you look like you feel fantastic. I feel like I'm imploding and exploding at the same time, and I can't –" His face twisted with the effort not to cry. "I can't do it, Kurt. And I – I'm not being what you need, I know. I just – I'm miserable and I can hardly function and I haven't felt like this in _years_ and I hate –"

 

" _Shhh_." Suddenly Kurt's face came into view as he squatted down before Blaine, his eyes wide and gentle. "This was never not going to be hell on earth, Blaine. You're doing the best you can, and I know that, okay? We can't both just fall apart at the same time, so I'm – I'm hanging in there. I don't want you to worry about me."

 

Blaine had never hated himself more. "I'm your _husband_ , Kurt, and I _love_ you – how can I not worry? I'm so sorry – I need to be better –"

 

"You _need_ to give yourself a break."

 

"Did you eat today?" Blaine asked, purposely changing the subject.

 

"Yes."

 

"How much, Kurt?"

 

Kurt sighed, perching his perfect ass on their coffee table in front of him. "Some cereal this morning. And I got a coffee on my way home."

 

Blaine shut his eyes and rubbed hard on his forehead, trying to release the tension there. "Coffee doesn't count as lunch. You need to _eat_ , baby – I know it's hard, but can you think of something that sounds good?"

 

"Cereal. And coffee."

 

"Kurt –"

 

"Come on," Kurt interrupted, "We can worry about me later. I feel fine. Let's worry about you for a minute – I got to recharge this morning; what do _you_ need?"

 

"I need to stop worrying that you're going to starve to death."

 

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to starve to death in the next hour, Blaine. What do you need right _now_? From me?"

 

Blaine couldn't think of anything in this world that he needed except his baby, and for his husband to be well. "Honestly? I don't have a clue."

 

"It's not your fault, you know," Kurt told him.

 

Blaine was caught off-guard. "What's not my fault?"

 

"Whatever you're sitting there blaming yourself for – I can _see_ you doing it," Kurt said.

 

He never realized he was quite so transparent. And he didn't know exactly what Kurt was talking about – he wasn't really _blaming_ himself, he was just stating a fact. It wasn't fair that Kurt was being forced to endure Blaine's lack of coping skills, staying up with him all night, listening to him cry. "But if I were just a little more –"

 

Suddenly Kurt wasn't on the coffee table anymore, but was in Blaine's lap, straddling him and pushing him into the couch cushions.

 

"Stop it," Kurt whispered, pressing his forehead hard against Blaine's. "You don't need to be a little more _anything_ , do you hear me?"

 

Blaine nodded, and Kurt pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then another, then one more. Blaine let his eyelids slide shut as Kurt's hands came up to tip his head back. He whimpered softly, taking a deep, shaky breath in through his nose as Kurt's tongue opened his lips and slid slowly over his. He tightened his grip around Kurt's biceps, and Kurt pulled back just far enough to speak.

 

"Is this okay? Is this what you need?"

 

"I don't know," Blaine whispered. "I don't know what I need."

 

"Do you think that maybe you can just need _me_ right now?" Kurt asked softly.

 

Blaine gave a slight nod of his head. It was so easy to need Kurt. He needed Kurt's wit and Kurt's sureness and Kurt's snark and Kurt's beauty and Kurt's love and _god_ , the sex was good, too. On average, Blaine needed Kurt 380 days a year, and he knew the numbers didn't add up, but he didn't care. So yes, he could do what Kurt asked. He could just need Kurt right now, and maybe what Kurt didn't completely know was that needing Kurt right now would be no different than any of the other days since they'd met. Needing Kurt felt like a full-time occupation.

 

That little nod was all it took for Kurt to surge forward, capturing Blaine's lips in a heady kiss once again. Blaine surrendered to it immediately, letting Kurt explore his mouth, shuddering as Kurt's thumbs slid over his nipples.

 

 _That_ kind of needing Kurt turned out to be exactly what he needed, the relinquishing of control, having Kurt on him and over him, and Blaine had a sudden desire for Kurt to be _in_ him as well.

 

"Kurt – god –" Blaine whined as Kurt's lips moved to his neck, sucking a purple mark in the dip between his shoulder and collarbone. But the second his hips bucked up, Kurt's hands were there, pressing him back down into the couch.

 

Blaine sucked in breath after breath of air as Kurt worked down his throat and into the neck of his t-shirt with his tongue. The short, prickly hairs on Kurt’s face from an unusual three days of not shaving scratched deliciously irritated red patches into Blaine’s skin, and he knew that later, he'd stare at them in the mirror, touch them with awe in his fingers.

 

He gasped as Kurt's thumbs drew circles around his nipples, but as he grew harder, guilt replaced need, curling in his stomach, tasting sour.

 

"Kurt, wait."

 

Kurt sat up straight. "What is it, honey?"

 

"Should we be doing this? I just feel guilty for feeling anything but awful, and there's no chance of this making me feel anything but good, and –"

 

"Blaine." Kurt sounded so _hurt_. "The whole point of this is to make you feel good. It's okay to feel good, honey, I don't understand –" he paused. "Do you remember the night Violet had to leave us? We made love then, and it wasn't terrible, was it? You didn't feel guilty then, did you?"

 

"No, but this –"

 

"This is happening because I _love_ you and I want to be close to you," Kurt said. "It's happening because I _want_ you to feel better. But if you don't want to …"

 

Blaine's heart sank as Kurt closed off, shrinking even farther back from him. It was the last thing that he wanted to happen. "No, hey, wait. We can –"

 

"I'm not going to pressure you into doing anything with me, Blaine. If you don't want –"

 

"Okay, first, stop talking like we're teenagers," Blaine said, trying not to roll his eyes. _Pressure me, really_?"Second, I don't know what I want." It wasn't entirely true – he knew he _didn't_ want Kurt to shut down, to leave. "I don't know, Kurt. I don't know what to think or feel anymore, and it all gets twisted, and _this_ – I don't want this to get twisted along with everything else. This is _ours_ , and it's so special, and – I just don't want to ruin it."

 

Kurt's face softened. "I love you so much," he said, bending to kiss his forehead. "This won't ever be ruined because it's _us_ , Blaine. If we stop having sex because we want to protect it from feeling messy or scary or too much? I'm scared that _we're_ the ones who will get ruined. Does that make sense?"

 

Blaine nodded slowly. It made – well, it made more sense than he'd have liked to admit. It made so much sense that he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before, but he was thinking with his very broken heart instead of with his head, and Kurt was just better at it than he was.

 

"I just – I don't want to lose you." Kurt's voice wavered, and Blaine saw a single teardrop slip out of the corner of his eye when he blinked. "I don't want to lose any part of you – I can't do this without you."

 

Blaine's chest tightened and he took a shaky breath, wiping the tear carefully off Kurt's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You're not going to lose me."

 

"I _can't_ , Blaine, you – you're everything," Kurt breathed, falling forward, and Blaine caught him in a tight hug.

 

They clung to each other for a long time, then Blaine pressed his lips to Kurt's temple. "I think you can kiss me now," he murmured, the guilt washing away with the tides of Kurt's love.

 

And Kurt did, pressing kisses to Blaine's cheeks and lips and eyelids and the tender skin behind his ears. "I love you," he whispered, and Blaine _sighed_.

 

When Kurt worked his way back to Blaine's mouth, Blaine parted his lips and moaned as their tongues met, sliding back and forth, with delicious intention. He got lost in it, Kurt's hands in his hair and on his face, his hips pressing Blaine deeper and deeper into the couch.

 

" _Kurt –_ "

 

"Hold on."

 

Blaine barely had time to register the words before the world tilted on its axis for a moment and he found himself on top of Kurt, straddling his lap. "Arms around my neck, legs around my waist," Kurt instructed darkly, and when Blaine complied, he wrapped a strong arm around Blaine's back, rose from the couch, and headed straight for the bedroom.

 

Blaine's stomach swooped down somewhere near his toes as he curled his face into Kurt's shoulder. He could feel Kurt's biceps against his sides, flexed and stretching against the sleeves of his soft t-shirt, and all the blood in his body seemed to rush to his groin from merely thinking about how strong Kurt really was.

 

"I love it when you carry me," he whispered as Kurt's free hand idly grazed back and forth over his ass.

 

"I know." Kurt eased Blaine to the bed, his hungry eyes never leaving Blaine's.

 

Every guilty, wrong feeling Blaine had, every doubt about sex with Kurt was washed away with the way Kurt was looking at him. Blaine lifted his arms, letting Kurt peel his shirt up his torso and over his head in one smooth motion.

 

"I promise we'll stop if this gets to be too much," Kurt said, shucking his own clothes as Blaine lay back. "Just let me know, okay?"

 

Blaine nodded, lifting his hips up as Kurt tugged his cut-off gray sweatpants down his legs, dragging his fingers over Blaine's calves.

 

"God, I'm glad I married you," Kurt murmured as Blaine was exposed, a pair of black briefs the only thing covering him.

 

"You only love me for my body," he quipped accusingly.

 

"Well, not _only_ for your body," Kurt said with a grin, "but it certainly helps." He lowered himself over Blaine, hovering close. The miniscule space that separated their bodies was electrified – Blaine could _feel_ him, though they weren't quite touching. His body jerked upward as their cocks brushed against each other through two thin layers of soft cotton, and Kurt closed the tiny gap between them, letting his weight rest on Blaine's chest.

 

"I love you," Kurt whispered against his lips, and Blaine moaned as Kurt rolled his hips more insistently, increasing the heat and friction. Kurt took Blaine's hands, still healing from the fight with the heavy bag, in his own. He lowered his head, kissing each of Blaine's knuckles softly, then turned Blaine's hands over and pressed kisses into his palms. Blaine felt like Kurt was trying to invoke some form of magic through his lips, to send some healing power into his skin and bones and nerves. It was so reverent, so intimate, that it sent chills through Blaine's body.

 

Hands tingling from the touch of Kurt's lips, Blaine brought his swollen hands to Kurt's face and pulled him close. They kissed, rubbing against each other for what seemed like an eternity, until Kurt finally let go of the back of Blaine's head to tug his underwear down to his ankles.

 

Blaine felt his cock flop against his stomach as Kurt gave him a searching look. "Still okay?"

 

"More than okay," he answered, kicking his briefs to the floor. "But it'll be better when these are gone too." He sat up, letting his hands ghost over Kurt's hips, and he drew his index finger over the long bulge in Kurt's tight navy boy shorts. Kurt's body quaked under his touch, and Blaine slid his fingers under the waistband, slowly sliding them down over Kurt's perfect ass and thighs.

 

" _God_ , Blaine –" Kurt moaned, closing his eyes for a moment.

 

Then he dropped off the bed, his head nearly disappearing from view, and Blaine felt Kurt's hands clasp around his feet, pushing his legs up so that his knees bent close to his chest.

 

"Oh, _Kurt_ ," Blaine breathed, grabbing the backs of his legs and curling around them just as Kurt's tongue made contact with his skin. "Mmmm," he sighed as Kurt licked a path across one thigh, over his balls, and down until – " _There_."

 

Kurt mumbled a garbled reply, and Blaine felt him licking circles around his hole. He breathed steadily as his body and his heart seemed to bloom under Kurt's tongue. His skin buzzed to life, and he could feel his heart fluttering further open with each gentle arc.

 

Kurt laved at his skin as if it were a sacred, precious thing, ever so lightly running his hands up and down Blaine's thighs, until Blaine begged for more.

 

"Please," he panted, "Please …" and sucked in a breath when the tip of Kurt's tongue pressed inside him.

 

"God, it's been a while since we've done this," Blaine moaned, pulling his knees back flush with his chest, ignoring the ache in his fingers, opening himself up to his husband.

 

"You're beautiful," Kurt whispered worshipfully, pulling backwards for a moment. Blaine's cock swelled as he felt Kurt's heavy stare, saw the lust in his eyes. "Hang on for me, honey."

 

Blaine's mouth dropped open when Kurt bent again, stiffened his tongue and began thrusting it in and out of Blaine's body.

 

He forced himself to open his eyes and watch the top of Kurt's head bob between his legs. "Kurt – _Kurt_ – _ahhhh_ –"

 

Suddenly Kurt's face came into view, a string of saliva dripping from his chin. " _Shhh_ , just let me take care of you, Blaine."

 

Blaine's head hit the pillow again when Kurt started back, this time flattening his tongue and licking from Blaine's hole, over his balls and up his cock, following the trail back down again. Blaine's body shook as Kurt pushed inside him again. After a few shallow thrusts of his tongue, Kurt increased his efforts until sparks of pleasure lit Blaine up from the inside out.

 

"Ohmygod _Kurt_ –" Blaine groaned, wanting desperately to jerk himself off, but kept his hands in place behind his knees, his feet dangling, ass exposed and pulled open. His eyes rolled back in his head; it was bliss and torture all at the same time. Desperate for friction, he was trying to curl up even more in attempts to rub his cock against his own stomach when Kurt stopped, pulling his face away from Blaine's body.

 

"I bet I could make you come, just from that," Kurt said thoughtfully.

 

" _Fuck_ ," Blaine grunted, secretly thinking that given enough time to stare and let his mind wander, he could come just from Kurt's completely debauched appearance, face red from exertion, wet with his own saliva.

 

"But I think I won't," Kurt continued, uncapping a bottle of lube he grabbed from the drawer on Blaine's side of the bed. He dribbled it over his hand and, with little warning, slid two fingers up inside of Blaine's body.

 

"Holy _shit_ ," Blaine swore, releasing his legs in surprise.

 

Kurt stopped. "Too much?"

 

"No, just move, _Jesus_ –" Blaine grunted, rotating his hips, riding Kurt's fingers. Kurt curled his hand just so, and the pads of his fingers slid across Blaine's prostate.

 

In spite of already-aching thighs – they weren't as young as they used to be – Blaine held the angle and was soon letting out wanton moans.

 

Just as his body began to shake, Kurt withdrew his fingers. "Don’t you dare come yet," he threatened. "I know it's been a while, but _god_ , Blaine –"

 

Blaine opened his eyes, looking up sheepishly. "Sorry," he said, taking deep, shaky breaths in. "It's your fault, you know – the things you do to me – you'd almost come too if you could feel it."

 

" _Shhhh_ ," Kurt hushed him, placing his index finger over Blaine's lips. "I want to fuck you now."

 

He grinned. "Okay."

 

* * *

 

Blaine was trembling, moaning loudly as Kurt fucked him hard against their mirrored closet door. Pre-come from Blaine's cock had dripped down his leg and his fingers were squeaking against the glass as they grasped for something to hold onto.  
  
"Fuck, Kurt, _fuck me_ _harder_ ," he gasped, jutting his ass out, effectively pressing Kurt deeper inside him. "More, _please_ –"  
  
Kurt bit down hard on his neck as he wrenched Blaine's leg up higher from where it rested on the chair they'd dragged in from the kitchen. Blaine felt the burning stretch in his inner thigh and bent deep to let his head rest on the mirror, closing his eyes and surrendering to the pounding thrusts Kurt was now putting his back into.  
  
He’d just encircled his cock in his own tight grip when Kurt pulled out of him with a jerk. He gasped, shocked at the sudden emptiness as his hole clenched around nothing, and his arms began to shake against the mirror. "What –"

 

"Blaine, honey, I'm sorry – hang on – bed –" Kurt grunted.

 

Blaine, desperate for the orgasm that had been purposefully delayed, threw their expensive linen comforter on the floor and perched on his hands and knees, his ass stuck high in the air.

 

"Will you turn over?" Kurt asked him.

 

"Anything, baby," he breathed as he flipped himself over. "As long as – wait, are you okay?" Kurt was shuddering above him on unsteady arms, and Blaine's hand flew to Kurt's side in an attempt to support him.

 

"I'm fine," Kurt gasped, but Blaine could see tears in his eyes.

 

"Kurt, baby, are you sure?" Kurt jerked his hips sharply against Blaine's in reply, and Blaine groaned. "Look, if you need to –"

 

"What I _need_ , Blaine, is to come in your ass," Kurt said, his voice still shaking. Blaine watched him shut his eyes and take two long, deep breaths. "Now," he said with a well-recovered smile, "if you'd be so kind, put your legs on my shoulders and let me fuck you till you can't see straight, okay?"

 

Blaine was worried. Kurt looked about as strong as a baby bird, all his energy sapped from him. What Kurt wanted wasn't necessary – Blaine didn't need to be fucked to feel the love and care that Kurt clearly wanted to show him. He was perfectly content just to lie on the bed, touching lazily until both of them came. It was Kurt's _heart_ that he felt so much while they were fucking, making love (which were two distinctive acts in Blaine's mind, but Kurt fucked so _sweetly_ that even that felt like making love to him). That's all Blaine wanted to feel, and he'd felt so much of it already that day.

 

He softened his tone. "Baby, I can tell you're running on fumes. Just lie back and –"

 

" _Legs_ , Blaine," Kurt ordered firmly.

 

Blaine sighed and obliged, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. The last thing he wanted was for what began as beautiful, perfect sex with his husband to turn into a nasty battle of wills. Kurt smiled smugly and uncapped the bottle of lube again. Blaine closed his eyes and breathed hard as Kurt’s cool, coated fingers rubbed around his rim, then inside him. He heard Kurt slick himself up with a slurping noise of wet skin against wet skin, and Blaine's back arched a moment later as Kurt slid all the way inside him in one smooth movement. As much as he didn't want to push Kurt too hard, it was _bliss_ to feel that full again.

 

"Now," Kurt said with a sly grin as Blaine's fingers twisted into the sheets underneath him. "Where were we?"

 

* * *

 

" _Keep going keep going keep going_ ," Kurt chanted silently to himself, legs and arms trembling as he pounded a hard rhythm into Blaine's ass. He'd started feeling like he might collapse twenty minutes prior, and it was all he could do to keep at it, but Blaine needed this more than he needed to stop.

 

Blaine was close – Kurt could tell by the way he was grunting, little _uh-uh-uhs_ with each thrust in, his face twisted in pleasure.

 

"Come on, honey," Kurt encouraged breathlessly. "Come for me – I'm not even going to have to touch you, I can tell –"

 

" _Please_ , Kurt," Blaine practically sobbed, the only coherent thing to come out of his mouth since Kurt started fucking him the second time.

 

"Come on," he repeated, his legs screaming at him as he tried to change his angle. "Come on, you can –"

 

" _Kurt_ ," Blaine moaned, interrupting him. "Kurt, fuck, god, fuck, _Kurt_ –"

 

Kurt shifted so that he was leaning heavily on one arm, the other grasping firmly at Blaine's hip. He tucked his chin down and took one of Blaine's nipples between his teeth, nipping at it lightly, still driving a hard beat into Blaine's body with his cock.

 

Apparently Kurt's teeth on his nipple followed by a soothing lick of Kurt's tongue were all Blaine needed to push him over the edge, and he came with a shout, shooting thick streaks of come over his chest.

 

Kurt forgot his aching thighs and low blood sugar and lightheadedness for a moment as he watched Blaine's body spasm, and it was the clenching of Blaine's tight muscles around his cock that finally sent him over as well, pulsing violently into Blaine's body.

 

He nearly lost it again as he came down, a few tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes as he collapsed onto the bed beside Blaine, who was gasping, "Oh my _god –_ oh my _god_ – oh my _god_ " to the beat of his still-twitching cock.

 

"Good?" Kurt asked, his heart beating like hummingbird wings in his chest.

 

"Oh my _god_ ," Blaine repeated, blinking sleepy eyes.

 

Kurt saw his out. "I love you, honey, but I can't _stand_ to be this sweaty in bed – I'm going to go take a shower, if that's alright with you …"

 

Blaine frowned. "No cuddles?" he asked.

 

"I'll cuddle with you when I'm clean, okay?" Kurt said, knowing full well that Blaine would be asleep in minutes.

 

"Okay," Blaine said with a pout. He rolled over and closed his eyes, hugging his pillow and looking sated and peaceful for the first time in days.

 

Kurt scrambled out of bed and into the bathroom and barely got the door closed before the tears started flowing. He turned the water as hot as he could stand it and stood under the stream, sobbing. He'd been running on sheer stubbornness for close to forty-eight hours (longer than that, if he was being honest), and stubbornness could only replace calories and sleep for so long. His conversation with his dad had revived him, but he'd given everything he got from that to Blaine, and he was all out of things to give.

 

Grief was exhausting.

 

After he'd finally cried enough to get it out of his system, he doused his loofah sponge with body wash and scrubbed the drying come from his stomach, quickly washed his hair, then slipped on his silk dressing gown. He tiptoed through the bedroom, where Blaine was out like a light, making occasional snuffling noises in his sleep, and perched in the large window seat they'd fashioned as a reading nook.

 

He tucked his knees under his chin and looked out over the city. It was mid-afternoon and the sun was shining brightly, reflecting off the windows of the building adjacent to them. It felt wrong. Kurt wanted it to be evening, wanted to ponder over what he was going to do as he watched the sun set. It was just another reminder to him that the rest of the world hadn't stopped moving just because their baby wasn't in her bed.

 

 _Think about the work thing before you just go and do it_ , his dad had said earlier.

 

But Kurt had thought enough in the twelve days prior. What he needed was to create.

 

(What he truly needed was a nap and a good meal, but sleep wouldn't come and his stomach was still rolling, so he settled for his sketchpad instead.)

 

And so, wearing nothing but a cobalt blue dressing gown, his hair still wet, Kurt sat on the couch and in a matter of hours churned out an entire line of women's mourning clothes on his sketchpad. They were to be made with raw silk and gossamer and lace, delicate and tragic in their beauty.

 

By the time he was done, he was out of breath, and he stared down at the page, not quite knowing what to think of it, until Blaine walked into the room, not a stitch of clothing on his body.

 

"I'm here to cash in on my post-coital cuddles," he said, still sleepy, folding his arms across his chest. "You never came back after your shower –"

 

"Blaine, I need to talk to you."

 

Blaine awoke fully then. "Ohh-kay," he said slowly. "Did I do something wrong? Are you mad?"

 

"No, honey, of course not." Kurt held up his sketchpad. "I just think it's time for me to go back to work."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kurt throws himself into work, Blaine has a hard time being alone (and has a worse time in certain company), and pulling themselves back together might be a little more difficult than they thought.

**Chapter 16**

**Thursday, July 20 th, 2023**

Kurt sat at his design table, bent low over the fabric spread out before him. His neck ached and his eyes burned – he'd been working for hours with no break, focused intensely on perfecting every cut, every stitch he made.

 

He'd been back at work for a week and a half. What had started as two days a week when he'd talked with Blaine had immediately turned into every other day when he talked with Marc. He notified Blaine via text message which, in hindsight, hadn't been the best idea after he came home to a silent Blaine with a very cold shoulder. But the more he worked, cold Blaine turned into a very clingy Blaine, and it became harder and harder to be in the house with him. By Friday, every other day had turned into every day, and by his second Tuesday back, Kurt was already going in early and staying late.

 

Kurt knew that Blaine was upset with him, but design was such a welcome relief. Blaine was smothering him when he was home, angry when he wasn't. An empty look washed over his eyes anytime Kurt had to leave his side, even if it was just to take Romeo for a walk. The studio let him breathe and gave him space, and the fabric bent to his whims, gave him control. Fabric – carefully crafted into a bomber jacket, a crisp pair of pants – could never break his heart.

 

He took a deep breath as he made the final cut, fingers cramping in the scissors he held, and he stood, twisting his neck from side to side to try and loosen it. Only then did his hands begin to shake, did his stomach roll with the nausea that never fully went away.

 

He made his way to the break room, dug in the fridge for the 6 oz. carton of blueberry yogurt he'd brought with him – the only thing he'd eat all day, other than the pretzels he’d choked down that morning. He scraped his plastic spoon over the cold yogurt, gathering the top layer into a small, precise bite, and licked it off the spoon. He continued in this manner for the next five minutes, until Tori, one of his fellow designers, burst into the room.

 

"You look crazy eating that way, you know," she said, grabbing a carton of Ben & Jerry's out of the freezer and digging into it.

 

"I have to take little bites when I’m stressed," Kurt explained, licking another bite from his spoon. "I feel like I'm gagging if I have too much in my mouth."

 

Tori raised her eyebrows. "Strange," she said.

 

"Yeah, well …" Kurt trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. He glanced at his watch – ten minutes left.

 

"Oh, I almost forgot – that jacket you were working on earlier? Marc says he wants you to come by his office at nine tomorrow morning so he can discuss it with you."

 

Kurt felt like he was wilting. If he couldn't have this, his only means of sanity… "Oh god – how upset is he?"

 

"He didn't seem to be upset at all," Tori said. "Just asked me to pass along the message. He had a Louis Vuitton meeting that he had to leave early for today."

 

Kurt sighed. "Thanks for telling me."

 

"Sure." She rose to leave, taking her ice cream with her. "Oh, and Hummel?"

 

He looked up.

 

"Take care of yourself, okay? You look like shit."

 

"Thank you, Tori." Kurt rolled his eyes and licked his spoon again.

 

"No, seriously – we need you around here, and I don't want you keeling over on us. I'm just worried, okay?"

 

"You don't need to worry about me."

 

Tori's eyes darted around the break room, and she stalked forward, leaning against the table Kurt sat at, the tattooed flowers curling up her arm and over her shoulder staring him in the face. "You repeat this to _no one_ ," she said, a menacing expression on her face. "I try to keep a badass rep around here, you know that."

 

Kurt nodded.

 

"I lost a baby a couple years ago," Tori continued. "I know how hard it is, even when you tell yourself it's not. You came back to work really fast, which I get, believe me – but don't be afraid to take more time off, or ask for help if you need it. I won't mention it to anybody else, but I'm serious, Kurt – take care of yourself."

 

He sighed, and gave her a little salute with his first two fingers. "Aye-aye, Captain."

 

The door shut behind her, and he closed his eyes, letting his tongue drag over the curve of the spoon, the yogurt dissolving in his mouth.

 

* * *

 

 _He left me_.

 

Blaine lay on his back on the couch, listlessly throwing Romeo's tennis ball for him, a mindless, repetitive movement as he tried not to watch the seconds tick by on their large wall clock. He was miserable.

 

 _He left me for_ clothes _._

 

He hadn't even tried to fight it when Kurt said he needed to go back to work. It wasn't fair, the way he'd presented the idea without pretense, when Blaine was pliant and agreeable after the best sex they'd had in a long time.

 

Logically, Blaine knew that Kurt wasn't leaving him by himself out of spite, but as the tennis ball hit the floor for the thirtieth time that afternoon, echoing through their too-quiet living room, it felt like he was.

 

It was just that Blaine had nothing to do but sleep – he'd slept until ten that morning, barely remembering the kiss that Kurt dropped on his forehead as he rushed out the door. Blaine had cracked open his eyes as the door clicked shut. The sun hadn't even risen yet. He'd groaned, rolled back over, and went back to sleep for another four hours or so.

 

Naps were becoming more and more frequent, showers less so, and the last two days, Blaine hadn't even changed out of his pajamas. What was the point? He wasn't leaving the house, hadn’t been outside in three days, hadn't talked to anyone except Kurt in four. He'd tried to write, especially in those first days that Kurt had been gone – tried to inspire himself to some form of the motivation that Kurt seemed to inherently possess, but he soon got tired of staring at blank Word documents. Feeling like a failure, he gave up.

 

A cold, wet nose nudging his hand brought Blaine out of his thoughts and back to reality, and he realized he hadn't thrown the ball in several minutes. He reached down to grab it, but his hand instead felt the soft, worn leather of Romeo's leash. The puppy was sitting obediently at the foot of the couch, leash in his mouth, looking up at Blaine with expectant eyes.

 

Blaine sighed heavily. "Romeo, bud, I just really don't feel like it today," he said, feeling guilty as the puppy whined and nudged him with his paw.

 

"I promise I'll make it up to you," Blaine said, reaching down to scratch behind Romeo's ears. "Don't you want to come up here on the couch with me? We can watch a movie," he prodded gently, patting the open space in front of his chest.

 

Romeo whined once again, but dropped the leash and jumped up, curling against Blaine's torso. He licked his hand a few times, then let out a sigh and rested his head on Blaine's arm. The warm, furry little body gave Blaine a bit of comfort, and he pulled Romeo closer to him and nuzzled his face into the puppy's fur. "I'm sorry," he breathed, and got a lick to the face in reply. "You understand, yeah?"

 

Reaching over to the coffee table, Blaine grabbed the remote and his phone. He turned on the TV for background noise, then tapped out a text with one hand.

 

**To: Kurt**

**Do you know what time you'll be home tonight?**

He had to wait half an hour for a reply, dozing in and out of consciousness as the Italian and Spanish soccer teams battled it out on the field. Finally, his phone buzzed, and he jerked awake.

 

**From: Kurt**

**Late probably. Still a lot to get done. I want to**

**finish the look I'm working on.**

Blaine sighed, and texted back with sleepy fingers.

 

**To: Kurt**

**Can you give me an estimate or something? I'm**

**really lonely and I'd like to see you.**

**From: Kurt**

**I really don't know, Blaine. You can bring dinner**

**by if you want, though.**

**To: Kurt**

**That'd be nice if you'd actually eat something for**

**a change.**

**From: Kurt**

**What's THAT supposed to mean?**

 

Blaine didn't reply, not wanting to get into an argument. He set the phone on the floor and shifted into a more comfortable position, nuzzling into Romeo's fur again as the puppy snuffled in his sleep.

 

* * *

 

**Friday, July 21 st, 2023**

After a tense and quiet night with Blaine, Kurt awoke an hour early the next morning. He wanted time to physically and mentally prepare for his meeting with Marc – he couldn't just waltz in with wrinkled clothes and no vision for the look he was working on.

 

After a long shower, Kurt styled his hair to perfection – every strand was held in place by either pomade or spray – and went through four different combinations of outfits before he finally deemed one appropriate.

 

He planned his strategy over a handful of pretzels at the kitchen table, his typical breakfast now. He had to find the perfect combination of flexible but firm, sure in his plans for the jacket, but willing to compromise if his boss wanted him to.

 

Kurt was waiting outside of Marc's office when he arrived.

 

"What's this?" he asked as Kurt pressed a Starbucks cup into his hand.

 

"Grande nonfat caramel and honey half-caf latte with whipped cream and extra caramel sauce," Kurt recited.

 

"You must've talked to the interns," Marc said with a smile. "You look wonderful today, by the way."

 

Kurt swelled with pride – this was going well. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for thinking to put on under-eye concealer that morning, and for remembering his boss's favorite coffee order.

 

"Come on in," Marc offered, unlocking the door.

 

"You wanted to speak with me about the bomber jacket? With the yellow jeans?" Kurt asked, breathing slow and deep to quiet his nerves.

 

"Well, partly – why don't you have a seat?" Marc said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

 

The meeting went well, for the most part – Marc praised him for his excellent work, even predicting that Kurt would be his competition in the future. But there was an edge of concern to his voice that Kurt wasn't used to hearing – and it wasn't concern for Kurt's work, but for his and Blaine's wellbeing. He left Marc's office half an hour later feeling confused, unsure of whether he was expected to take more time off, or to continue working like he had been.

 

"How'd it go?" Tori asked when she saw him in the hall, walking toward his workstation.

 

"Okay, I think," Kurt said, frowning at the glances everyone in the studio was giving him. "He's worried."

 

"We're all worried, Kurt," Tori said softly.

 

"Well, you shouldn't be. I'm fine," he said coldly, and wandered off to find a bolt of silk fabric.

 

* * *

 

**From: Alex**

**Have you fallen off the face of the**

**earth or something?**

Blaine jerked awake to the sound of his phone buzzing impatiently on the desk. Bored, he'd tried his hand at writing again, and he must've fallen asleep at the computer. He looked up to his screen and saw the lone words on the screen.

 

 _I suck at this_.

 

He sighed, closed his laptop, and picked up his phone.

 

**To: Alex**

**Basically. Might as well have, anyway.**

**From: Alex**

**You hanging in there? Any new stuff I**

**should know about?**

Blaine only wished that Kurt would reply to his texts as quickly as his agent did.

 

**To: Alex**

**Nothing. Can't write. Not feeling great**

**about much of anything these days, tbh.**

**From: Alex**

**You should come out with me tomorrow**

**night! You need to get out of the house.**

Blaine narrowed his eyes at the screen. Going out and being social was the last thing he wanted to do.

 

**To: Alex**

**I don't know – I'm not very good company**

**lately…**

**From: Alex**

**I bet you would be if you got enough liquor**

**in you. Don't you want to just get away for**

**a little while?**

Blaine rubbed his hand over his face tiredly. Going out didn't sound particularly appealing, but getting _away_ – that sounded perfect. It wasn't like Kurt was going to do anything with him on Saturday night anyway.

 

**To: Alex**

**…Okay. I guess. But I'm warning you now,**

**I'm kind of a party-pooper these days.**

**From: Alex**

**Excellent! I'll pick you up at seven.**

*** * ***

 

**Saturday, July 22 nd, 2023**

"See, don't you feel better?" Alex asked, clapping Blaine on the back.

 

Three beers in, and Blaine _did_ feel better. He felt lighter than he had in a month, actually, in spite of his heavy, clumsy limbs that didn't seem to want to do what they were supposed to. The bar they were sitting in – one he'd never been to – was the welcomest escape he could've ever imagined.

 

"Yeah, I do," he nodded, and time was either slowing down or speeding up, because his head seemed to be moving a lot faster than the rest of the room. "A little dizzy, but – yeah. Better."

 

"Good," Alex said, pushing another beer in front of him. "I'm really digging the beard, by the way. What're you going for, like beat poet-meets-hipster or something?"

 

Blaine rubbed his face, feeling the scraggly dark hairs under his fingers. "Oh. I wasn't really going for anything – I just haven't felt like shaving lately. Kurt hates it."

 

"Well, it looks good on you." Alex took a big gulp of beer. "So, you say you can't write lately?"

 

"No, but I think I could if I felt like _this_ – we need to do this more often," Blaine said, taking a long draw from his drink. He leaned his head back, and it was like the world was rolling out from underneath him. He threw an arm out to balance himself, but Alex caught him by the shoulder.

 

"Damn, you're kind of a lightweight, aren't you?" Alex commented with a smirk.

 

Blaine smiled sheepishly. "I can't help it that I'm small."

 

"Nah, I'm not talking about that – I know a bunch of little guys that can keep up with me just fine," he said. "You just don't drink much, do you? I mean, I've never been to a bar with you before –"

 

"I drink with Kurt," Blaine said defensively.

 

"Yeah, and I know exactly where that leads," Alex smirked. "I bet you guys don't even get through a whole bottle of wine before you're fucking like rabbits."

 

Blaine's face burned crimson, mainly because it was true. "God, Alex …" he said. "I can hold my alcohol just fine." He got up from the table to prove his point and staggered to the bar. "Shot of bourbon, straight up," he told the bartender.

 

"Blaine, that might not be the best –" Alex started to say as he followed Blaine to the bar, but Blaine ignored him, wincing sharply as the bourbon burned all the way down his throat.

 

" _Jesus_ ," he hissed, coughing a little. He didn't even _like_ bourbon.

 

"Look, you don't have to proveanything to me, alright?" Alex said as he grasped Blaine's shoulders and steered him away from the bar. "I get it – you drink, okay. Just – no more shots. I don't want you getting sick."

 

"I'm not gonna get sick," Blaine retorted, feeling petulant.

 

"Whatever you say, man. How _is_ Kurt, anyway? Is he holding up alright?" Alex was clearly changing the subject, and part of Blaine wanted to smile at the can of worms that he had no idea he'd just opened. Most of Blaine just felt irritable.

 

"If holding up alright means not eating and cleaning like _obsessively_ , then sure," Blaine said sarcastically. "He was mopping the whole fucking house when I left." His eyes widened as a burp escaped his lips. "All he said when I left was –" he paused, not really wanting to repeat what Kurt had said when he left. "You know what? Let's not talk about Kurt. It's killing my buzz."

 

"Okay," Alex said jovially. "What _do_ you want to talk about, then?"

 

Blaine couldn't think of anything he wanted to talk about. Everything in his life seemed sad, and he didn't want to talk or think about sad things. "Actually – Alex, let's sing. Can we sing? Can _you_ sing?"

 

"Oh my god, you're one of _those_ drunks?" Alex groaned. "Fuck. You should've warned me."

 

"What's wrong with singing?" Blaine said, surprised when the words came out a little slurred. He blinked slowly as the shot began to hit him harder. "Music makes me happy."

 

Alex looked at him for a long moment. "Makes you happy, huh? Well, shit, that's what we're going for, I guess."

 

"Then we can?"

 

"There's a karaoke bar down the street," Alex said with a sigh. "Think you can walk?"

 

"Think I can _walk_ ," Blaine scoffed, letting go of the bar. He promptly tipped to the side, and had to grab Alex's arm to keep from falling. "Oops."

 

"Dammit, I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" Alex muttered, and Blaine felt himself being half-dragged through the bar and out into the warm summer night.

 

Staggering down the sidewalk, Blaine felt as free as a bird. He threw his arms above his head and spun in a dizzy circle. "The _lights,_ Alex. God, I love this city!" Everything felt beautiful and rich and _more_ , and part of him wished that Kurt were there with him to feel it, too.

 

But once they got in the karaoke bar, smoky and dark and crowded, he felt a little less like he could fly away. "I need another beer," he muttered, and made his way toward the bar, chugging down half a glass before Alex could even get to him. The minute he started to sober up, all the bad feelings came rushing back. He just needed to stay right on the edge of drunk, and he'd feel fine …

 

Alex's hand fell heavy on his arm. "Blaine, man, I know I said I was going to get you wasted, but it might be time to slow down a little bit."

 

"I'm fine, Alex. Now – karaoke!" Blaine announced happily, shrugging Alex's hand off and stumbling to the stage. He selected his song and finished his beer while he waited for the two people in front of him to finish singing.

 

By the time he took the stage, he felt as if he'd been hit in the head with a large brick. The lights made him feel strangely disoriented, the floor seemed to be moving under his feet and whenever he tried to move, it was as if he was swimming through Jell-O. But then the music started. Blaine carefully made his way to the mic, and he suddenly felt better – he'd always felt more at home with a microphone in his hand, after all. It'd been a long time.

 

 _"She's into superstition, black cats and voodoo dolls,"_ he sang, and a few catcalls rang out in the bar. " _I feel a premonition – that girl's gonna make me fall_."

 

And just like that, Blaine Warbler was back. The alcohol made him loose, and he didn't hold back, rolling his hips through the verse. His voice grew stronger and stronger as he sang. By the first chorus, a group of girls gathered at the foot of the stage, reaching up toward him and loudly singing along with him.

 

 _"Her lips are devil-red and her skin's the color mocha, she will wear you out, livin' la vida loca … livin' la vida loca …_ "

 

When the music break came, Blaine pulled out the best salsa moves he had, but he tripped over the microphone cord and almost landed on his ass on the stage. He managed to recover, laughing it off, but by the end of the song, his head was spinning.

 

"Oh, god," he moaned to Alex as he staggered off the stage. "I'm so _dizzy_. I might've over-due – over-did – over – fuck."

 

"Okay, Tiger," Alex said. "Let's get you outside – I think you need some air."

 

Blaine felt claustrophobic as they exited, Alex's hands under his armpits, prodding him to move forward. Several of the girls that had been dancing at the foot of the stage grabbed at him, their too-long fingernails stroking down his arm and making him entirely uncomfortable, and one of them actually smacked his ass.

 

"Not on your team," Alex said, annoyed, and pushed Blaine toward the back of the bar.

 

Once they were outside, the fresh air helped a little. Blaine took slow, deep breaths, closing his eyes, then opened them again when that didn't help at all. He tried to keep his eyes focused as Alex held up three pieces of paper. "You would've been a very successful straight guy. Numbers," he said. "All girls. You made quite the impression in there, Casanova. I'm kind of jealous."

 

" _You_ call them, then," Blaine mumbled, not sure whether to clutch at his head or his stomach, which was beginning to feel rather unsettled. "I'm ready to go home."

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm working on it," Alex said, hailing a cab. "Hold your damn horses."

 

* * *

 

"Kurt – gonna be so mad," Blaine mumbled as Alex half-carried him into their building. His whole 'stay on the edge of drunk' plan hadn't quite worked the way he'd hoped. That last beer had been a really bad idea, and drinking it as fast as he had was a worse one.

 

"Don't worry – I'm sure I'll take most of the shit," Alex said, manhandling him into the elevator.

 

The doors closed and the elevator started to rise, too fast. Blaine was feeling greener by the second. He swallowing hard as he lurched out of the elevator, digging his key out of his pocket to hand to Alex.

 

" _Kurt_!" Alex shouted into the condo as he kicked the door open, dragging Blaine inside. "Get up – you're probably gonna need a bucket in a minute!"

 

Kurt's face appeared from around the corner, red and shiny with exertion, a bandana tied around his forehead. "What?"

 

Alex cocked his head, confused. "Are you _still_ cleaning?" he asked.

 

Blaine swallowed hard again. The room was tilting hard to the right under his feet, and he grabbed the wall trying to keep himself upright. His stomach churned, and he closed his eyes.

 

"Yeah, just the inside of the oven," Kurt answered. "What about a bucket?"

 

"Wellll," Alex drawled, "Blaine's a little –"

 

Blaine cursed, interrupting him. He bent low, resting his hands on his knees and, in one large heave, emptied the contents of his stomach all over their clean hardwoods.

 

Kurt's eyes widened. "You are fucking kidding me."

 

Blaine was shaking violently. He didn't feel any better at all – weren't you supposed to feel better after throwing up? He felt worse. He fell to his hands and knees, trying his best to avoid landing in his own vomit.

 

"Sorry, man – I didn't realize he was such a lightweight. You got some towels we can clean that up with somewhere?" Alex asked.

 

" _You_ are going to throw him in the bed and put a trash can next to him and tell him I will _burn all of his bowties_ if he pukes anywhere but there," Kurt snarled in Blaine's direction. " _I_ will clean up this mess."

 

"Kurt – I'm sorry –" Blaine croaked, but Kurt was having none of it.

 

"I will deal with you later," he glowered, "after I have wiped all of your _vomit_ off my clean floor."

 

"Kurt –"

 

" _Bed_!" Kurt thundered, and Blaine felt himself being picked up and carried down the hall. The whole world was spinning, and the happy, buzzed feeling he had earlier was long gone.

 

Alex set him gently in the bed. "Good luck, man," he said softly as he tugged Blaine's shoes off and placed a trashcan next to his head. "I'm sorry you got so sick. We'll have to do this again sometime. Just – less alcohol, okay?"

 

"Deal," Blaine managed. "Oh, fuck …" He leaned over the side of the bed and threw up in the trashcan again. He felt like he was going to die.

 

Alex sighed. "Here, let me get that for you," he said, but Blaine held a hand up, shaking his head, and threw up a third time.

 

" _Fuck_ ," he groaned again, laying his head back down on the cool pillow. Alex retreated, and Blaine could hear him asking Kurt if he needed to stay and help.

 

" _You_ have done plenty," came Kurt's brusque answer. "I can take care of my husband just fine, thank you. You're free to go."

 

Blaine heard the door shut, and soon after, Kurt's footsteps approaching the bedroom.

 

"I hope you're happy," he said sharply, opening the door. "I hope you had a _fantastic_ time tonight, Blaine."

 

"I'm sorry," Blaine grunted, "I didn't –"

 

"I don't care what you _did_ or _didn't_ mean to do," Kurt snapped. "I care that there's a huge puddle of puke on the floor that I _just_ cleaned and waxed, Blaine. I care that you were gone all night when I maybe could've used some company –"

 

" _You_ use company? You _left_ me, Kurt – I'm _miserable_ –"

 

"Of course you're miserable. You're _drunk_ , Blaine." Kurt set a tall glass of water and two pills on Blaine's nightstand. "Drink this, take those, and don't say a damn word about the hangover you're going to have tomorrow. I'm going to go finish cleaning up after you, and you'd better be asleep when I come to bed."

 

"Kurt –"

 

"We're done talking about this right now. Goodnight."

 

Blaine wanted to cry when the door slammed shut. He fumbled around on the dresser, almost knocking the water over, and took a hesitant sip when he finally managed to get his hand around the glass. Seconds later, he was bending again, coughing, heaving what little he had left in his stomach into the trashcan. There was no way he was going to be able to keep the pills down.

 

He managed to swish some water around in his mouth, ridding himself of the sour taste, and rolled over, pulling the blankets up over his head. He deserved every moment of the hangover he was sure to have the next morning.

 

* * *

 

Angry tears sprang to Kurt's eyes as he swiped at the floor with an old towel, batting Romeo away from the mess.

 

A bitter sense of resentment rose in his chest. He wondered when (and if) it was ever going to be Blaine's turn to take care of him, if he would ever just be allowed to sleep the day and the night away. He wondered what would happen if he fell ill, if he couldn't do chores or go to work or clean up Blaine's vomit.

 

He chuckled darkly to himself as he picked up the soiled towels and threw them in the washing machine. The answer was obvious: they wouldn’t get done. The washing machine began to rumble, and he sighed as he headed back into the hallway to spray Lysol on the floor.

 

 _This is what her first stomach bug might have felt like_ , a small voice in the back of his head said as Kurt got down on his knees to better clean the floor.

 

"No," he said, out loud and sharp, surprising himself. It wouldn't have felt like this, because the Blaine Kurt married – not this Blaine, wasted without him in their bed – would have had Violet in the bath already, singing her soothing songs while she cried, and he'd be making sippy-cups of Pedialyte to keep in the fridge for her to drink when she was ready. It wouldn't have felt like this because he'd be hurrying to pet her hair and fret over her rather than stewing over soiled towels and snarling at Alex.

 

It wouldn't have felt like this, because if Violet was there, they wouldn't have a crater in the middle of their lives, wrecking everything they once held dear.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no amount of alcohol or brunch can dull the pain of loss, and life is very hard.

**Chapter 17**

 

**Wednesday, July 26 th, 2023**

"Rachel? What are you doing here?" Kurt asked, looking up from his design table at his best friend, who was holding a bright pink tote bag at arm's length.

 

"I'm stealing you!" she exclaimed. "It's the prettiest day outside, Kurt – I thought we could have a picnic!"

 

He stared at her. It was finally official – Rachel Berry had lost her mind. "Rach, you can't just come into someone's workplace and expect them to –"

 

"I saw Marc on my way in," she interrupted smugly. "He gave me his full support of your kidnapping."

 

"You – wait." Kurt cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. "Marc – as in, Marc _Jacobs_ , my boss? You asked him if you could kidnap me for lunch?"

 

"Well of course I did. I wouldn't want to kidnap you without _permission_!He's very friendly, actually – we're on a first name basis now, of course. Oh, and Kurt – he's seen the show! You didn't even tell me!"

 

"Pardon me," Kurt said drily. "I should start keeping better track of his comings and goings, because _that's_ completely normal …"

 

"Oh, stop it," Rachel said with a wave of her hand. "I just thought he might've mentioned something to you, since we're best friends …" she trailed off. "Wait. You _have_ mentioned me here, haven't you? I mean – people know who I am, and know we're friends, right?"

 

Kurt chuckled. "Oh, people definitely know who you are. You've made for many an entertaining tale on late nights when we're all too exhausted to see straight."

 

"Oh. Well, good!" Rachel said brightly, her concerned frown disappearing as fast as it came. "You know I love to entertain. Now come on – put those scissors down, and come get some sun and eat lunch with me."

 

Kurt sighed in frustration, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Marc mouthing " _Go_!" at him, and making shooing motions with his hands.

 

"Fine," he groaned, "but this can't turn into a 2-hour-long cocktail party. I have work to do."

 

"As you wish," Rachel said with a smug grin, hooking her arm through Kurt's and tugging him through the building, out into the bright sunlight. She pulled him down a block and a half to a tiny park with a few benches.

 

"Here – this is perfect!" She sat, smoothing her skirt. "Now, lunch – everything is healthy and low-fat, so it's perfectly safe for you to eat without fear of everything going to your hips – not that anything ever does, of course," she chattered, unpacking the pink tote bag to reveal a container of greens, a bottle of homemade vinaigrette, and another container of some sort of pasta salad.

 

"You know that's not my problem, right?"

 

Rachel looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

 

" _Without fear of everything going to your hips_ ," Kurt parroted, "You know that's not why I can't eat, right, Rachel?"

 

She huffed. "I don't really see why it matters _why_ you're not eating –"

 

"It matters a hell of a _lot_ why I'm not eating!" Kurt exclaimed. "Don't you think I feel like shit? Don't you think I know I _look_ like shit?"

 

"Well – your skin is getting a little sallow," Rachel said, looking down at her feet.

 

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder," Kurt said wryly. "I can't eat because – I _can't_ , Rach. I'm nauseated if I don't eat, but I puke if I try. You _know_ how my stomach gets when I'm this upset all the time."

 

Rachel sighed. "Look, as your best friend, it's my job to take care of you, especially when Blaine can't," she said. "I'm sorry that you feel bad, but you need to eat, or you're _really_ going to get sick."

 

"I'm doing the best I can," Kurt grumbled at her. "And I am _eating_ , I just have to be particular about _what_ I eat."

 

"Well, what can you eat, then?" she asked, gesturing to the food set out on the bench beside her. "Anything in here?"

 

"I've been mainly living on saltines and pretzels," he said, "and the occasional tub of yogurt. But …" He picked up the container of pasta salad. "I might be able to try this."

 

"It's homemade," Rachel told him, as if it would help.

 

He stabbed two pasta shells with his fork and popped them in his mouth, chewing slowly.

 

"It tastes good," he told her, glad with the knowledge that it wasn't a lie, and she clapped her hands and spooned some out onto a plate for him.

 

"Listen," he continued, eating another shell, "if you really want to worry about someone, you should worry about Blaine. He sits at home and does nothing all day, and he's started going out with Alex at night, which is the worst possible decision he might've ever made. He's come home drunk – like, the vomitus maximus, _killer_ hangover kind of drunk – two nights this week already."

 

"Oh, _Kurt_." Rachel placed a tender hand on his shoulder, and he knew she'd taken the bait. He didn't feel bad, taking the attention away from himself. His stomach would come around eventually, but Blaine was really starting to worry him, and as much as he hated to admit it, Rachel probably had more patience than he did for his husband.

 

"Yeah. Maybe you guys can go to brunch or something soon. I don't think it's good for him, sitting alone in our condo all the time."

 

"Well of course it isn't!" Rachel exclaimed. "Don't worry, Kurt, I'm your woman – you can count on me to keep him company!"

 

Kurt listened to her jabber on, making plans to rescue Blaine from his self-imposed isolation, and tried to eat. But about halfway through the little pile of pasta salad on his plate, the food stopped tasting good, and his stomach started feeling sour.

 

Rachel stopped in the middle of her sentence, looking down at his plate. "Are you full already?"

 

"I'm sorry, Rach. I get to a certain point, and I just feel sick – I can't eat anymore."

 

She regarded him sadly, then started packing her Tupperware containers back into her bag, turning her back to him. "Well, thanks for coming and picnicking with me anyway," she said, her voice cold. "I hope it was at least a nice break for you –"

 

"Rachel, don't."

 

"Don't what?" she asked innocently.

 

"Take _this_ ," he gestured to his body, "as a personal affront to your cooking, or our friendship, or whatever the hell you're thinking right now. I would've expected that from you ten years ago, but right now I just really, really need you to step out of your own head and your happy little Broadway world and be my friend, okay?"

 

"I –" she started, clearly offended, but then shrank back against the bench. "I'm sorry. Oh, god, I'm awful, aren't I?"

 

"No. You're not," he said, patting her hand. "This is just not the you I need right now. I don't need Rachel Berry, Broadway star, who can waltz in and name drop and ask Marc Jacobs give me a lunch break. I know that works sometimes, but it's not going to work for this."

 

"Which Rachel _do_ you need, then?" She paused. "Oh, god, you're making me sound like Sybil …"

 

Kurt sighed. "I'm not saying you have multiple personality disorder or whatever they're calling it now, I just –"

 

"I'm sorry," she said, clapping a hand over her mouth. "I did it again. This is about you, not me … Okay." She sat up straight, put her hands primly in her lap. "Let's try again. Which me do you need right now, Kurt?"

 

He smiled softly. "The one who broke into the Gershwin Theater with me when we were in high school. The one who came to me, sobbing, when you and Finn ended things for good and let me pet your hair for an hour. The one who'd stuff a ballot box for me, even if it ended in my disqualification and your suspension. The one who did yoga with me at two in the morning because both of us were too tired to sleep." He paused. "The one who helped me pick out Blaine's engagement ring."

 

Kurt looked up to see tears rolling down Rachel's face as she nodded. "Okay," she said, squeezing his hand. "Okay, I can be that for you." He pulled her into a hug and she sniffled next to his ear. "I'll take Blaine out soon, I promise. Anything you need, Kurt – just tell me, alright?"

 

He kissed her cheek in reply.

 

* * *

 

Blaine's head jerked up from where he'd fallen asleep on the couch, knocking his book to the floor. He looked up to see Kurt unzipping his boots, stacking them carefully on their shoe rack.

 

"Hey," Blaine said, stretching his arms over his head.

 

"Oh, hey," Kurt said, and Blaine was struck by how tired he sounded. "Did I wake you?"

 

"Yeah. It's okay though," Blaine said trying to wake up. "Is my hair flat?" He patted the side of his head, trying to gauge its appearance with his fingers. "I bet my hair's all flat."

 

Kurt gave him a small smile and walked over, covering Blaine's hand with his own. "Not flat. Just a little frizzy."

 

"What's wrong? You seem really tired."

 

"I _am_ tired, Blaine. In the last twenty-four hours, I've gotten three hours of sleep, I've had two different people try to force-feed me, I've dealt with a pretty belligerent, very drunk husband, and I've had to clean up more puke than I'd really like to think about. After all that, how can I _not_ be tired?"

 

Blaine hung his head. He didn't remember much of the night before. He knew there was more karaoke, but after the first two songs he sang, things were pretty fuzzy. He did remember staring into the bowl of their toilet for a long time, and he'd woken up with a god-awful hangover and a mouth that tasted like something had crawled inside it and died.

 

After the hangover had finally worn off – with the help of half a bottle of Pepto-Bismol – the guilt had really begun to set in. All he wanted to do was escape from the hell he was living in, but he realized that while he was escaping, Kurt was having to do double the work while trying to grieve himself.

 

"I'm so sorry, Kurt," Blaine said, unable to look him in the eye. "I – I really am. I know I was awful."

 

"Blaine, honey, you weren't awful, you were just _plastered_. Really, I was more irritated at Alex for letting you get that bad off than I was at you. I didn't mean to snap. I'm just – _really_ tired."

 

"Maybe you could take a nap?"

 

Kurt gave him a look that read something along the lines of, _Are you fucking kidding me_?

 

"Okay, okay, no nap. So who was making you eat this time?" Blaine asked, changing the subject.

 

"Rachel, mainly," Kurt answered. "And you know how she is when she thinks she's on a mission."

 

"Rachel?" Blaine asked. "You saw her today?"

 

"She brought me lunch and conspired with my boss to lure me out into the sun with the guise of a picnic just so she could stuff food down my throat. Apparently they're on a first-name basis now."

 

Blaine raised his eyebrows.

 

"Okay, fine," Kurt admitted, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, "it wasn't that dramatic – although, apparently she and Marc actually did hit it off. I'm just tired of people trying to coddle me to death." He whistled, and Romeo, who was taking a nap in his dog bed, shook himself off and trotted over, jumping up in Kurt's lap.

 

"Including me?" Blaine asked, chancing a wary look out of the corner of his eye.

 

"Yes, including you."

 

"I'm sorry – I don't want to be a nag." Blaine gave him a sheepish look. "I just hate seeing you like –"

 

"And I hate seeing you like this, too, Blaine," he snapped. "But there's not a lot we can do, is there? It is what it is."

 

"I guess," Blaine said sadly. He rested his hand on Kurt's thigh and Romeo began to lick his arm. "So did you bring work home with you tonight, or can we watch something on TV?"

 

Kurt stretched out under Blaine's touch, resting his head on the back of the couch. "I probably should work, but I'm so tired – let's just turn something on. Want to marathon old episodes of Real Housewives?"

 

"Sure – you think it'll make us feel better about ourselves?"

 

"I guess it's worth a shot," Kurt said, handing Romeo to Blaine and getting up to sift through their DVD collection. "What do you think," he asked, crouched in front of the cabinet under their built-in bookcase, "Miami, Beverly Hills, or New Jersey?"

 

"Mmm," Blaine mused, "let's go with Beverly Hills. Season three?"

 

Kurt popped the DVD in the player and came back to the couch, this time laying his head in Blaine's lap and pulling the puppy onto his chest. "Do you think things will ever feel normal again?" he asked quietly.

 

"I don't know," Blaine said, running his fingers through Kurt's hair, rubbing his scalp. "I think I've forgotten what normal feels like. I miss you, Kurt."

 

"I miss you too," Kurt said. "I miss _her,_ Blaine, sometimes so much I could –"

 

It was like a lead weight had been dropped onto his chest. "Don't," Blaine said, shaking his head. "Kurt, I don't want to talk about her."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because when I do, I cry, and I'm tired of crying. I – it's like a hole in my heart, and it's swallowing me alive, and – can we just watch Real Housewives and forget we have problems, please? Just for tonight?"

 

Kurt reached up to cup Blaine's cheek in the palm of his hand. "Okay. But if we don't talk about her, we'll forget her, and I don't want to."

 

Blaine breathed slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth. He could never forget her – her face was painted on the backs of his eyelids; her cries haunted his dreams. He didn't need to talk about her. He carried her with him every moment of every day. "I'm gonna get a beer – do you want one?"

 

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "I'm barely able to keep down pretzels, and you want to know if I want a beer? No thanks, honey."

 

Blaine shrugged. "Just didn't want you to feel left out or something." He lifted Kurt's head up enough to slide out from under him, and he could feel Kurt's eyes trained on his back the whole way to the kitchen.

 

"Does it make you feel better?" Kurt asked once they were settled again, his voice full of concern.

 

"What?"

 

"Drinking. Does it make you feel better?"

 

Blaine blinked at him. "Kind of. For a little while. Why?"

 

"I was just wondering why you do it, if it makes you so sick," Kurt said softly. "It'd have to be really worth it for me to do something that made me feel that bad."

 

"I – I don't know, Kurt," he said. "I – let's just watch the show, okay?"

 

"Okay," Kurt said casually and scooted down, turning toward the T.V., but his words rang in Blaine's ears for the rest of the evening.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, Kurt was going through his moisturizing routine while Blaine read in bed. In the mirror, Kurt spotted the scale – the scale he hadn't stood on since Violet was taken so abruptly from their lives.

 

Kurt fought an internal battle while he dabbed his face with astringent – on one hand, he knew he'd lost weight, and wanted to know how bad the damage was, but on the other, ignorance was bliss. He couldn't stay ignorant for much longer, though – his clothes, so carefully tailored to perfectly fit his 150 lb. frame, were starting to hang loose on him. His energy level, once envied by his co-workers, was dwindling fast.

 

With the last dab of his cotton ball, he rose from the stool he kept solely for this purpose – their bedroom was too small to house a large vanity like he'd grown up with – and walked over to the scale. He closed his eyes and stepped up.

 

He counted to five, took a deep breath, then looked down.

 

139.

 

" _Shit_. Shit, shit, _shit…_ "

 

"Kurt, are you okay?" Blaine called from their bed.

 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah," he called back, silently willing his voice not to shake. "I just dropped my tub of cold cream on my toe."

 

"Ouch," Blaine said. "Want me to kiss it better?"

 

"My _toe_ , Blaine?" Kurt said as he stared down at the number. How had he lost that much weight? It had been a month – that was almost three pounds a week. More than was recommended when you were _trying_ to lose weight, and he wasn't. No wonder his pants weren't fitting right anymore.

 

He took a deep breath and slipped his robe off his shoulders, then craned his neck and looked backwards, trying to see his ass in the mirror. His neck couldn't crane quite far enough to see, so he stepped off the scale, hung his robe on the towel hook, and looked again.

 

His briefs, the black Calvin Kleins that hugged his ass so perfectly that on one very memorable night they made Blaine literally drool on his pillow, were bunchy and sagging in the back. Kurt wanted to cry.

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, July 29 th, 2023**

It was Saturday night, and Kurt was watching the clock as he swept the floor. Eleven o'clock.

 

He moved to the bathroom – eleven-thirty – then tidied the bedroom – twelve – then moved to the kitchen. He pulled every item out of their cabinets, looked for expiration dates, reorganized their non-perishables until everything was spic-and-span. One A.M. Still no Blaine.

 

He gave up and went to bed.

 

His phone read 2:28 when he finally roused to the sound of a key in the lock. Kurt sighed as he padded toward the door in his bare feet, his pajama pants swishing around his ankles.

 

"Alex, it's two-thirty in the morning. You guys have got to quit doing this," he said, as Alex helped Blaine through the door. Blaine was grinning, leaning heavily on Alex's arm.

 

"Kurt. Kurt-Kurt, I missed you – you never want to have fun with me," Blaine whined, pitching forward into Kurt's arms. "I sang, baby – I wish you'd been there to see me sing. I was singing to you."

 

"Is he sick tonight?" The question was directed at Alex.

 

"Nah, just happy."

 

Kurt stared at him. "You know, to be such a great agent, you're really dense sometimes. This? Is not happy."

 

"'Course I'm happy, Kurt!" Blaine said, nuzzling his face into Kurt's neck. "I'm home with you now. I love you."

 

"Yeah, I love you too, honey. Can you walk to the bed?" he asked tiredly.

 

Blaine nodded dutifully, holding onto the wall and stumbling back to their bedroom. Once the door shut behind him, Kurt sighed.

 

"Come in, Alex. I want to talk to you for a few minutes."

 

He curled up in the recliner with a soft chenille blanket, giving Alex the couch.

 

"This can't keep happening," Kurt said after a long pause. "I know you think that you're helping, but getting Blaine wasted isn't going to do anything but impede his grieving process."

 

"He's worried about you," Alex said quietly.

 

"I know he is. _I'm_ worried about me," Kurt admitted, his fingers idly tracing the bones in his ankles. "I'm worried about him, I'm worried about us –"

 

"You're both worrying yourselves into the ground," Alex said. "I'm just trying to help Blaine find a little bit of happiness in all this mess."

 

"But it's no good when the happiness is contrived."

 

"Yeah, but you don't see him up there," Alex said with a sigh. "He sings, Kurt – I didn't know he sang before he started coming out with me. He's got such a great voice, and he works the crowd like he's a rockstar or something. Everybody loves him, for a couple of hours at night. I just feel like I'm giving him something, you know?"

 

"I know exactly how good he is," Kurt said, smiling a little sadly at the memories of Blaine jumping around their first apartment together. "And before all this happened, he sang at home all the time. We sang together. But – Alex, what you don't see is the aftermath. He comes home, he gets sick, I clean it up. He moans about his head, and he doesn't get out of bed for hours in the morning. He might feel awesome at the bar with you, but he feels like shit the rest of the time."

 

"Well, I'm trying to get him to drink less –"

 

Kurt shook his head. He was done with the polite chatting – it was getting him nowhere. He wanted to make sure that Alex heard him loud and clear. "How about trying to get him to write? Or walk the dog? Or clean the kitchen once in a while? Or do _something_ productive besides going to bars and pouring drugs in his mouth?"

 

Alex's eyes widened a bit. "Whoa, man –"

 

"Seriously, Alex. If you thought a joint would make him feel better, would you give him that, too? What about cocaine? Or you guys could shoot some heroin. Anything to make him _happy_ …"

 

"Kurt." Alex's tone was firm. "You're comparing apples and oranges, here. Those are all _illegal drugs_ , and no, I'd never give one of my best authors anything like that. I don't want to fry his brain."

 

"Well you're doing a damn fine job of frying his liver."

 

Alex just looked at him, and Kurt sighed. "I'm sorry. That was out of line. I'm just _tired_ , and things are so hard, and –"

 

"No, man, you don't have to apologize. It's just – if Blaine calls me and asks me if I want to go out, I'm not gonna say no. I think being isolated would be worse for him than drinking right now. And – no offense, but it's not like you're around all that much. He's told me about the hours you're working."

 

"Let's not bring my work hours into this," Kurt said, casting his gaze toward the wall. "But you're right – Blaine doesn't need to be alone."

 

"Well, if you don't want him to go out with me, and you don't want him to be by himself, and you want to keep working the way you do …" Alex trailed off. "I wish I knew what to tell you, Kurt."

 

A little ball of resentment formed in Kurt's stomach. "Well I guess we'll have to find Blaine some different friends, won't we?" he snapped.

 

"Yeah, I guess so," Alex said, pushing up on his knees and rising from the couch. "Look, it's late, and I should go. I'm sorry if I upset you."

 

Kurt shrugged. "Whatever. I guess I'm just being a controlling prick. Blaine's a grown man. He can do what he wants to."

 

Alex grunted at this, and let himself out. "Have a good night," he said right before the door clicked shut behind him.

 

"Yeah, right," Kurt muttered, closing his eyes and counting a full minute before getting up from his place in the recliner.

 

He took a deep breath before opening their bedroom door. "Blaine? Are you still awake?"

*** * ***

**Sunday, July 30 th, 2023**

Blaine stumbled from warm, snug-as-a-bug blankets in bed to the too-bright kitchen where Kurt was making a racket so loud he felt like a jackhammer was being held to his head.

 

"What is _that_?" he asked, his hands covering his ears.

 

"Our coffee grinder. Which you use nearly every morning," Kurt shouted above the noise.

 

"Do you _have_ to grind your coffee this morning, Kurt? We've got two bags of pre-ground stuff in the freezer already. My head is _killing me_."

 

"Well pardon me for wanting a fresh cup," Kurt snapped.

 

"You're doing it out of spite, because you're mad at me," Blaine muttered, sinking into a kitchen chair.

 

"I'm doing it because I wanted a Sumatra roast this morning and the only bag of that we have is whole beans." The loud noise finally stopped, and Kurt shook the coffee grounds into a filter. "I'm going into the studio today, by the way."

 

Blaine looked up at him. "Again?"  

 

"What do you mean, _again_? I'm working the same hours I've kept for the past four years."

 

"You –" Blaine cut himself off, too tired and headachy for the yelling match that was sure to ensue if he'd continued. What he wanted to say was that Kurt _wasn't_ keeping the same hours he used to work, that Kurt was working himself to the bone. He wanted to tell Kurt that his feelings were hurt because it felt like Kurt was avoiding him, like Kurt _wanted_ to leave him at home by himself. That for the past four years, when Kurt _was_ home, he'd made a point to spend time with Blaine, and that wasn't happening this time.

 

Instead, he asked if he could have some coffee.

 

Kurt sighed. "I only made enough for my thermos."

 

"I guess I'll just go back to bed, then," Blaine said, his brow furrowing. He paused. "Kurt, don't you think it might be good for you to have a day off? Maybe we could go out for a late lunch once my hangover gets better –"

 

"Oh, ho ho ho, I don't think so Blaine – I'm not falling for that," Kurt said defensively. "I am so _sick_ of everybody trying to get me to eat – I'm eating, okay? See?" He opened their breadbox, held up a loaf of multigrain bread. "Toast. Coffee. I'll put cream in it, to add calories. I'll eat butter on the toast. Will that make you happy?"

 

Blaine was genuinely hurt. If the only reason Kurt thought he wanted to go to lunch with him was to nag him … "Kurt, I'm not trying to coerce you into anything," Blaine said tiredly. "It's just that we haven't spent any time with each other the last week, and what little time we have seen each other, we've been fighting. I hate that."

 

"You could've spent time with me last night," Kurt snapped, and Blaine's chest ached. This was what it felt like, he realized with sickening clarity, to watch your relationship slowly crumble to pieces. But Kurt looked like he regretted the words, casting his gaze to the floor and running his hand distractedly across the counter. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "That was uncalled for. I've been – I think it's been a hard week for both of us. But I need this collection to be perfect. You understand, right? There's so much pressure on me –"

 

"I think," Blaine said sadly, "that the only pressure on you right now is coming from yourself, especially considering that you're _supposed_ to still be on paternity leave right now. They were planning for you to be gone."

 

The choking sob that shook Kurt's body took Blaine by surprise. "Well I'm not, am I?" he said, his voice shaking. "I'm not on paternity leave. I'm not _gone_ , Blaine. And I've got to do _something_ – I feel like I'm going crazy when I'm not designing –"

 

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "So you feel like you're going crazy when you're with me, then?" he asked slowly, knowing in the back of his mind that it was an unfair leap, even if it felt true.

 

"No, that's not –" Kurt sputtered, his hands flying up in frustration. "You know that's not what I meant."

 

"Well what _did_ you mean, Kurt? You get pissed at me when I go out with Alex, you get pissed at me if I get drunk, you get pissed at me if I make a 'mess' – which, by the way, does _not_ mean a speck of toothpaste on the bathroom counter, I'm just saying. You're pretty much pissed at me all the time. So then you _leave_ because you can't handle being around me –"

 

"That's not true." Blaine watched Kurt's hands shake and wondered if it was because he was so upset or because he was lying. "That's not true, Blaine. I'm hurting and you're hurting and we're trying to figure out what life is supposed to look like now, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be with you."

 

"You sure act like you don't," Blaine said wearily. "Look – I'd like to go back to bed, okay? Maybe we should talk about this another time, when I'm not hungover and you aren't running out the door."

 

"Blaine – look, if you want to talk, I might could go in later today –"

 

 _Too little, too late_ , Blaine thought. "No. I really don't, actually. Just – go make yourself feel better and get out of here. I'm just gonna sleep this off."

 

Kurt looked at him with sad eyes. "I can set the coffee timer for a couple hours later, if you want me to make you a pot."

 

"Sure, whatever, if you want. Have a good day," he said, turning and walking back toward the bedroom.

 

"I hope your head feels better," Kurt called just before he shut the door.

 

 _Damn him for making me feel so guilty_ , Blaine thought to himself, flopping face-first onto the bed.

 

* * *

 

**Tuesday, August 1 st, 2023**

"Blaine?" Kurt said, easing the door open, trying to be quiet in case he was asleep. It was late – nearly ten o'clock, and after a long day at the studio, all Kurt wanted to do was curl up in a ball and not move. His fingers ached and his head hurt and he was, for the first time in days, _hungry_.

 

"Huh?" Blaine mumbled, jumping a little as he startled from sleep.

 

"Sorry, honey, I didn't mean to wake you," Kurt said.

 

"Are you just now getting home?" Blaine asked.

 

"Yeah, I'm sorry I'm so late. What'd you do today?" _Nothing,_ Kurt answered for him silently as he surveyed the room.

 

There were cups strewn about the living room and on the table, a cereal bowl sat, half-full of milk, on the coffee table, an empty bowl of Rachel's curry sat on the end table next to the couch and the sink was piled high with dishes that had yet to be washed.

 

"I read some," Blaine said. "Watched a couple movies. What about you? How was your day?"

 

"Long," Kurt sighed as he began collecting the mess. Soon he had a neat tower of dishes resting in his hands, waiting to be carried to the kitchen. Blaine hadn't budged from the couch. "You know, you really could stand to shave. You're starting to look like Alan Ginsberg."

 

Blaine actually grinned at him. "That's what Alex told me the other day – he said I looked like a cross between a beat poet and a hipster. It just seems like such a _chore_ , you know? I mean, why shave every day when you don't have to?"

 

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "It's not very nice to kiss," he said, and walked into the kitchen. He cleared out the sink, rinsed it, and soon hot, bubbly water was pooling in the bottom. He got out his rubber gloves and closed his eyes – it would make him feel better, having the kitchen clean, even if his fingers were already killing him from sewing all day.

 

Blaine eventually meandered into the kitchen, standing and watching him scrub the dishes.

 

"You could offer to help me dry, you know."

 

"Oh!" Blaine said, as if the thought hadn't even occurred to him. "Oh, sure, uh – let me get a towel –"

 

"They're in the third drawer from the bottom beside the stove, if you've forgotten," Kurt said drily.

 

"I know where they are."

 

 _Then why don't you ever use them?_ Kurt thought viciously, but handed over a glass to Blaine without saying a word.

 

* * *

**Thursday, August 3 rd, 2023**

"Hello?" Blaine said into his cell phone, fumbling with the TV remote. He pressed pause, and Colin Firth froze on the screen, his mouth open in mid-word.

 

"Blaine? Hey, man, it's Nick."

 

"Oh, hey!" Blaine's face lit up at the sound of his old Dalton friend's voice. "How are you?"

 

"I'm … okay. Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

 

"Sure thing."

 

"So, I'm moving to New York, and I was wondering if you and Kurt might be able to help me apartment-hunt."

 

" _What_?" Blaine exclaimed, a little thrown by the rush of excitement he hadn't felt in ages. It felt strange in his body, buzzy and fizzy like champagne. "Of course we can! When are you moving? Did you get transferred or something? Or did Caroline get a job in the city?"

 

"Caroline's not coming," Nick said tiredly.

 

Blaine paused. "…Oh. I'm sorry, man; what happened?"

 

"I came home for lunch one day and found her in our bed with another guy. We've been distant for a while now, but that finished us off. It's been a month."

 

Nick's words took all the wind out of Blaine's sails, the champagne feeling turning to soured milk. He was grateful for a moment that in spite of all of their problems, at least Kurt wasn't sleeping with someone else. "I'm so sorry, Nick."

 

"It's for the best, I guess," Nick said. "I don't really want to be with someone like that, you know?"

 

"What, a monumental bitch?"

 

"Yes," Nick laughed into the phone, "a monumental bitch." He laughed a little harder. "Thanks, man. I – god, she _really_ is. God, I've needed to say that for a week."

 

"Well good," Blaine grinned. "I'm glad I could facilitate the removal of your filter, or whatever that was. So, do you have a job up here yet?"

 

"I do, actually – I'll be a graphic designer for Sawyer & Young, which is this design firm in –"

 

"I know Sawyer & Young," Blaine said slowly. "They designed my last book cover."

 

"No way!"

 

"I know! Small world, right? They're a great company, really easy to work with – and they're like –" Blaine paused for a moment, counting in his head. "Five blocks from where we live."

 

Nick laughed again. "That's the best news I've heard in weeks."

 

"You're not the only one."

 

All the mirth left Nick's voice. "God, I'm such a prick. I haven't even asked – how are you and Kurt doing? I haven't talked to you since – well, I guess you know Rachel sent out that email. I'm so sorry I didn't call …"

 

"No, it's fine. It's nice to talk about something _other_ than that for a change, you know?" Blaine took a deep breath as the now familiar lump reformed in his throat. "We're fine. Kurt's working his ass off in the studio and I'm – I'm taking a break from work."

 

"Do your parents know?"

 

It felt like Nick had just hit him with a brick. "No. They – no, Nick. Suffice it to say that nothing's changed. We haven't spoken in almost four years, now, not since that awful Thanksgiving …" Blaine trailed off.

 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up."

 

"It's okay."

 

"So, have you –"

 

"I miss her so much, Nick," Blaine blurted out, a choked-off sob following his words. "I just – I can't –" His face twisted as tears began to burn his eyes.

 

"Blaine, I'm so sorry," Nick said softly.

 

"She's just _gone_ ," he said, sniffling loudly. "She was here, and it was like –" He held the phone away, his hand over the speakers as a sob ripped through him, his chest feeling like it would crack open, like he was in the middle of open heart surgery …

 

He took a deep breath, brokenly told his friend, "It was the happiest I've ever been. Ever. And now she's just gone."

 

"Blaine, man –"

 

Something in Nick's voice brought him back to himself, made him realize where he was and who he was on the phone with. _Fantastic_ , now he was having nervous breakdowns on people who never asked for that sort of baggage with absolutely no warning.  "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," he said, scrubbing at his face with his free hand. "I'm sorry, Nick, I didn't mean to lose it like that –"

 

"Hey, no, it's cool. I keep randomly yelling things into my bedroom like Caroline's still there. A couple weeks ago I literally burned the sheets that were on the bed when I found her. Went to visit Mom, used the fire pit in her backyard – you should've seen the smoke. And Caroline was just my _girlfriend_. I can't even imagine what you and Kurt must be going through."

 

"Still though – I'm sorry," Blaine said. "I know you didn't call to have me blubbering uncontrollably in your ear. Can we just – apartments. Can we talk about apartments?"

 

"Sure," Nick said kindly. "So you think you guys might be able to help me find a one-bedroom?"

 

"Yeah, of course. When will you be here?"

 

"Next Friday."

 

"Awesome – I'll shoot you an email in a little while with some good places to start looking," Blaine said, still internally berating himself for falling apart _then_ , _why couldn't you have waited till you hung up you asshole_? "You want to grab dinner and drinks or something that night?"

 

"I wish I could, but my schedule's jam-packed while I'm in the city. I'll look for a place to live that morning, I've got meetings all afternoon, and the new boss is taking me out to dinner that night – it's supposed to be a team bonding/meet the new guy thing, or something."

 

"Mmm, fun," Blaine said, his voice still falling a little flat. "Well just let us know when, and we'll help you move."

 

"Thanks," Nick told him gratefully. "It'll be nice, already having some friends up there. I'm having a harder time than I'd like to admit, leaving Jeff in Chicago …"

 

"God, I didn't think about that – you guys haven't lived in different cities since you met, have you?"

 

"Not for long enough that it counted, no. He's acting weird lately, though – I think he might be mad that I'm moving away. Or maybe just mad that he doesn't get to come live in the big city too, I don't know."

 

"Yeah, well, it is pretty awesome …" Blaine said. "Maybe he's just still processing. Give him some time – I'm sure he'll come around. And tell him that he can always come visit. I'd love to see him – it's been a while."

 

"It has. Not since Vi–" Nick cut himself off in mid-word.

 

"Violet's shower," Blaine said, barely above a whisper.

 

"I'm so sorry. Blaine, I –"

 

Blaine felt numb all over. "No. No, it's fine. I can't just pretend that it never –" He stopped, biting the inside of his cheek hard.

 

"Blaine?" Nick asked carefully after a long pause.

 

"Yeah, still here," he said, trying not to let his voice sound too thick.

 

"Look, I'll let you go before I put my foot in my mouth again. I'm so sorry."

 

"It's fine."

 

"Yeah. Listen – take care of yourself. And Kurt, too."

 

"Will do. I'll send you that email later today, that alright?"

 

"Definitely. Thanks, Blaine, seriously – you're kind of a lifesaver here."

 

Blaine took a deep, shaky breath. "Don't count yourself out of that equation, either. It'll be nice to have you here."

 

* * *

 

 _Just fifteen more minutes. Then you can take a break_ , Kurt promised himself, taking a shaky breath as he carefully cut the fabric on the table, following his perfectly straight chalk line.

 

He closed his eyes slowly and opened them again, trying to rid himself of the bright bursts of color that distorted his vision. _Fifteen more minutes_. His hand shook as he made another cut, and he tried to hold the fabric steady, but his arm suddenly gave way.

 

" _Shit_!" Kurt swore, dropping his shears as blood pooled on his hand and dripped onto the floor. _At least it's not on the fabric_ , he thought as what seemed like a mob of people came rushing over to him.

 

Marc reached him first. "Patrick, go get the first aid kit and meet us in the men's room.

What happened?" he demanded, grabbing Kurt's wrist.

 

"I cut my hand," Kurt replied dumbly.

 

"I can see that," Marc said, dragging him down the hall. " _How_ did you cut your hand?"

 

"I don't know – my shears slipped –"

 

Into the bathroom, through the door, to the sink, he might as well have been a ragdoll the way Marc was hauling him around …

 

"Have you eaten?"

 

"I – yes. I had some pretzels this morning, and some yogurt at ten –"

 

"And it's three in the afternoon." Marc sounded angry as he thrust Kurt's hand under a stream of cold water, the cut burning as he pumped soap onto it. "It's a good thing we keep Steri-strips around here," he muttered.

 

"I –"

 

"As soon as you're bandaged up," Marc said, "I want you to go home and I don't want you to come back until you've had a solid meal. You've been working your ass off up here and you need _rest_ , Kurt." He grabbed a handful of paper towels and pressed against the cut.

 

"But I –" Kurt stammered.

 

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you." Marc's voice softened as he looked into Kurt's eyes. "I'm worried about you. Go home, spend some time with Blaine. I'm sure he's worried, too."

 

Kurt's eyes dropped to the tiled floor in the bathroom as Patrick ran in with the first aid kit. He replaced the paper towels Marc was holding with a stack of gauze, holding firm pressure against Kurt's hand while Marc dug out a pack of Steri-strips.

 

"How's the bleeding?" Marc asked.

 

Patrick gingerly lifted the gauze. "Almost stopped. It's not as bad as I thought it was."

 

"Good."

 

Kurt was silent while they carefully bandaged his hand, his heart hammering erratically in his chest. He'd never been asked to leave work before.

 

But maybe Marc was right, he reasoned with himself as he sank into the backseat of a cab, too unsteady on his legs to make the walk home. Maybe this was getting dangerous, out of hand – he nearly bled all over what would become a chambray button-down, and he had a gash in his hand to prove it. One more slip-up and it could be his job.

 

He stumbled up the few steps to their building, leaned hard against the walls of the elevator while it brought him to his floor as the tiny car spun and tilted. When he finally got home, tripping through the door, he was surprised to see all the lights out in the condo. He looked around, his pupils dilating in reaction to the dim room, and found Blaine sleeping on the couch, an empty beer bottle on the coffee table.

 

He sighed, shaking his head, and threw it in the recycle bin on his way to the kitchen. Was that number one, or three, or five? Would Blaine stay wasted and passed out all evening while Kurt, by himself, dealt with the wailing demons in his head?

 

For the moment, he pushed that thought to the back of his mind and made his way to the fridge. With trembling hands, he warmed up a plate of grilled chicken and roasted potatoes. Rachel had taken to making slightly blander food for him, in hopes that he'd be able to tolerate it better. He hadn't even tried to eat it until that evening.

 

Bringing his plate into the living room, he perched on the arm of the recliner so he could look out their large window at the city while he ate, but he kept getting distracted from the food by Blaine, who was making soft puffing sounds each time he exhaled. The afternoon sun cast light and shadows on the planes of Blaine's face, and something in Kurt's heart pulled at the sight of his husband looking relaxed and peaceful for the first time in days.

 

They were breaking, just the beginnings of it, and he could feel it spreading inside him like a toxin, like a virus.

 

"We're falling apart, Blaine," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked down at his bandaged hand, at the plate of food in his lap. "Do you know what we're doing anymore? Because I don't."

 

Blaine made a soft snuffling noise and shifted on the couch, tugging the pillow he was holding closer to his chest.

 

"I miss you." Tears sprang to Kurt's eyes as he brought a bite of chicken to his lips. "I'm sorry this is so hard," he said softly as he tried to chew. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess right now." He sniffled, the tears rolling down his cheeks and into the edge of his mouth. They were salty on his tongue, mixing with the flavor of the chicken.

 

He took a deep breath. "It's just food," he whispered to himself. "Just eat it."

 

He was chewing a piece of potato, relieved that he'd found something that didn't make him nauseated, when Blaine's eyelids fluttered. "Kurt?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

 

" _Shh,_ " Kurt whispered, almost desperate to keep the childlike innocence and openness that Blaine's face held in slumber. "I'm right here. Go back to sleep."

 

"'Kay. Love you," Blaine mumbled, shifting to his back. His eyes slid shut again and he was breathing deep within seconds.

 

"I love you, too," Kurt whispered.

 

In the end, Kurt managed to choke down three-quarters of the plate, still perched on the chair as the afternoon shadows grew deeper and deeper. Beside him, Blaine slept.

 

Feeling uncomfortably full after the largest meal he'd had in a very long time, Kurt set his plate in the sink and wandered into their bedroom. He shut and locked the door and stripped his shirt off, curious. He'd been avoiding mirrors lately, but maybe it was time to reassess the damage – he'd had to cinch his belt one notch tighter that morning.

 

Right after he did it, he wished he hadn't. His image in the mirror disgusted him. He was beginning to look like one of those children on the commercials that wanted money for war-ravaged areas of the world. The outline of his ribcage was beginning to show. At the bottom of his stomach was a little round bulge – the chicken and potatoes he'd just eaten, what Blaine would've called a _food baby_ back before the word 'baby' was considered an expletive in their home – but his hipbones stuck out sharply. He turned around, trying to see his back, and when he bent, his spinal column was visible.

 

_Man cannot live on pretzels alone._

 

The door handle jiggled. The noise startled him so badly that he fell back against the bed behind him.

 

"Kurt?" Blaine's sleepy voice called out. "Why's the door locked?"

 

"Uh – I didn't mean to!" he called, frantic, tugging his shirt back on while his heart thudded in his chest. "I'm sorry," he told Blaine as he opened the door.

 

"'S okay – I just have to pee," Blaine said, scrubbing his hand over his eyes.

 

"By all means." Kurt gestured him in, feeling stupid as it was Blaine's room just as much as his. He stepped aside to let Blaine pass.

 

"I was just going to change clothes," he said as Blaine used the bathroom. "Into something more comfortable. I thought we could maybe watch a movie?"

 

"I might sleep through it," Blaine warned, yawning.

 

"That's okay." Kurt paused. "Blaine, are you – drunk? Still?"

 

Blaine smiled. "One beer does not a drunk husband make, baby. Not drunk, just sleepy."

 

Kurt sighed, tugging off his white jeans – thank _god_ the blood dripped on the floor and not on his pants earlier because that would be a bitch to get out – and replacing them with a pair of loose-fitting yoga pants. "Drinking with Alex is one thing," he said, "but it worries me that you're drinking by yourself in the middle of the afternoon. One beer or no."

 

"I don't usually," Blaine said, exiting their bathroom after he washed his hands. "It's just that I had an … interesting phone call with Nick this afternoon."

 

"Nick as in Nick Pritchard? Warbler Nick?" Kurt asked.

 

"Yeah."

 

"Why did a phone call with _him_ make you want to drink a beer?"

 

Blaine sighed. "I don't really want to talk about it right now, if you don't mind."

 

"Okay." Kurt backed off, not wanting to push Blaine into a fight. "What movie do you want to watch?"

 

"I think it's only fair that _you_ pick, since I'll probably end up sleeping through most of it."

 

" _The Sound of Music_?"

 

Blaine froze with his fingers pushed into his curls, his brow furrowed. "Did you have a bad day at work? Wait – what time is it?" He looked out the window. "It's still light outside – why are you home early?"

 

Kurt held up his bandaged hand. "My shears slipped. Marc sent me home to 'rest,' as if I don't have five hundred things to do at the studio …"

 

Blaine walked toward Kurt, his head tipping to the side as he sighed. "Oh, Kurt – are you okay?"

 

Kurt nodded, but something in his chest _pulled_ , and his face twisted as he tried not to cry. "I am, really," he tried to explain through the tears that rebelliously rolled from his eyes, "I don't know why I'm crying –"

 

" _Shhh_ ," Blaine soothed him, gathering him into a hug. He brought Kurt's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the wound. "See? All better now."

 

A shaky breath rushed from Kurt's chest as he buried his face in Blaine's shoulder. "I've never been sent home from work before," he said, his voice quavering.

 

"You're not in trouble, baby – Marc's just worried. So am I," Blaine said softly. "I'm glad it wasn't any worse than this."

 

Kurt nodded again, pulling back and swiping the tears off his face with his forefingers. "Yeah, me too. They just slipped – I don't know what happened."

 

Blaine looked at him sadly, took his hand and squeezed it. "Come on – _The Sound of Music_ awaits us."

 

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, feeling small as Blaine led him from the room. "Will you sing _Edelweiss_ with the Captain for me?"

 

"I always do."

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, August 5 th, 2023**

It was bright and early – well, bright and early for Blaine, at least – at ten o'clock that Saturday morning, and he was on the subway on his way to Chelsea, dressed in coral-colored chinos and a navy polo adorned with a bow tie. Bright and early as it may have been, though, he was late. Kurt had so thoroughly approved of the improvements in his attire and hygiene that he'd had Blaine up against the wall of their bedroom, ignoring the weak protests that soon turned into weak whimpers.

 

They'd reached a mostly-peaceful truce over the past several days, and things seemed close to normal, in spite of the fact that Kurt still wasn't eating much and Blaine was drinking enough for the both of them. But Blaine thought he could deal with close to normal as long as it meant they weren't at each other's throats.

 

He stood as the train neared his stop, smoothing the wrinkles from the front of his pants, and texted Rachel. She'd called him on Thursday after his phone call with Nick while he was in the middle of his second beer and asked him to join her for brunch. Blaine was hesitant, but he had a hard enough time saying no to _normal_ people, let alone Rachel Berry.

 

They met on the corner of 9th and 13th, and Blaine took a deep breath as she nearly bowled him over with the hug she had a running start on.

 

"I'm so sorry you had to come all the way to Chelsea, but you'll see – this really is the best brunch place in all of the city, Blaine!" she exclaimed, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the street.

 

"Well we can't have anything but the best for our rising star, now can we?" he teased.

 

" _Rising_?" Rachel gasped, clutching her chest in offense. "What do you mean, _rising_? I'm _Fanny_ , Blaine. I'm reprising _Barbara Striesand's_ role."

 

He laughed. "Pardon me. I guess at this point it's safe to say you've _risen_."

 

Rachel grinned. "Now you're making me sound like Jesus," she scolded. "We wouldn't want someone to overhear and accuse the beautiful Jewish ingénue of blasphemy …"

 

"Well, shit," Blaine said, laughing harder. "I just can't win for losing this morning, can I?"

 

"Oh, you know I'm just teasing," Rachel said as they walked up to the restaurant. "You know, Kurt was so worried about you when we talked last, but you seem good this morning. How are you?"

 

"Oh, I'm doing okay," Blaine said, straightening his bowtie and smoothing his shirt as the hostess walked them back to their table.  "It's hard, of course. But I'm really a lot more concerned about Kurt."

 

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously as the waiter placed a menu in front of her. "That's exactly what Kurt said."

 

Blaine shrugged. "We're married. We worry about each other. That's – kind of what we do."

 

"Well," she scoffed, "I obviously wouldn't know anything about _that_ , now would I?"

 

"Hey," he said, reaching his hand out for hers. "That's not what I meant." She averted her eyes, her chin held high as she looked away. "Rach – come on, don't be like that. You _know_ I didn't mean anything. We've been married for six _years_ ; it's not like it's a new thing."

 

"Rub it in, why don't you," she grumbled.

 

"Why don't I also rub it in that we're miserable because we just lost our baby? But I'm sure you could find a way to be jealous of that, too …" Blaine mumbled, rolling his eyes. "Look, can we just drop it?" he asked, his voice stronger. "What's good to eat here? What should I get?"

 

She sighed dramatically. "Well," she said, "everyone says the smoked salmon on sourdough is the best, but personally?" She lowered her voice. "I'm kind of partial to the baked brioche French toast. It has _butterscotch sauce_."

 

* * *

 

"…And I looked into the mirror and said to myself, 'Rachel Berry, it's about time someone recognized your star quality. All that work has finally paid off.' My first headlining Broadway role, and I'm filling the shoes of _Barbara Streisand_ , Blaine.It's so wonderful – I've gotten standing ovations every night for the last week! Like I've always told everyone, I was _born_ to sing those songs on a Broadway stage."

 

Blaine smiled at her, sipping his blood orange mimosa, as he heard the story of how she'd landed the lead in _Funny Girl_ for the twentieth time. He didn't know why he'd been so hesitant to come to brunch with her. It was the perfect escape – if he could get her in the right mood (and she was, today), she'd spend all morning talking about how wonderful it was to be onstage and how many autographs she'd signed the night before, and he could drink mimosas and never even have to mention Violet. He wondered why he hadn't thought of it earlier.

 

"I'm sure you earned every one of those ovations, too," he told her.

 

"Oh, I did!" she assured him. "I'm just glad that Timothy – he plays my husband Nick, you know – didn't ruin it for me two nights ago. He flubbed one of his lines, and if it weren't for my impressive prowess at improvisation – if I do say so myself – the show would've just been wrecked."

 

Blaine made sympathetic noise.

 

"But – why are we talking about me? We need to be talking about you, Blaine!" Rachel exclaimed.

 

He took a large gulp of his mimosa.

 

"When Kurt and I talked, he acted like you were slumming around the house, wallowing in misery. I was honestly expecting you to come here looking like a caveman. I made a special appointment for you with my salon, just in case you needed a haircut."

 

"Ahhh," Blaine started, a nervous edge in his voice. He thanked his lucky stars that he had, indeed, shaved his caveman beard off. "I think I can manage my hair on my own just fine, but thanks. And I'm not sure if you could call it _wallowing_ …"

 

"Well, that's very good to hear. Have you cleared out Violet's nursery yet?"

 

Blaine bristled at the baby's name. "Rachel, I really don't –"

 

"Now Blaine, you know that's an important part of the healing process. I really think –"

 

"Can I get you anything else?" their waiter interrupted, and Blaine breathed a sigh of relief.

 

"Yes, actually," he said, "another one of these." He held up his empty glass.

 

"Yes, sir. And you, ma'am?"

 

"Bring her one, too, but put it on my check," Blaine instructed, hoping that a little alcohol would serve to distract Rachel from all topics related to Violet.

 

"Oh, thank you, Blaine!" Rachel exclaimed.

 

Blaine plastered a smile onto his face. "It's the least I can do – you've kept us fed for the last month."

 

"Well, I can't have my two favorite boys starving to death, can I?"

 

An uncomfortable shiver coursed through Blaine's body, but he pushed it down and kept smiling. "We really appreciate it. But that's enough depressing talk for today. We're here to catch up and distract me from being sad, right?"

 

"Of course we are!"

 

He smiled, satisfied, this time a real one. "Okay, then. I want to hear some gossip from your show. Favorite and least favorite cast members, go."

 

* * *

 

Blaine came home that afternoon to find Kurt lounging in the recliner, reading a book.

 

"Wow, you're home early. I wasn't expecting you until at least five or so tonight," Blaine said as he toed off his shoes.

 

"Marc's cutting my hours. He says I need 'time at home to heal,'" Kurt said drily, making air quotes with his fingers.

 

"Maybe he's right."

 

"How was brunch?" Kurt asked. The pointed tone and the arch of his eyebrows, not to mention the very obvious change of subject, confirmed Blaine's suspicion that it had been the wrong thing to say. Would he ever be able to do anything right again?

 

He wanted Kurt from this morning back, the one who'd pushed him up against the wall and licked his neck.

 

"Oh, brunch was fine," he said, flopping down on the couch. "Typical Rachel – I got to hear all the drama in the cast. And there's a _lot_ of drama."

 

"Mmm, well …" Kurt shrugged as if to say, _Did you expect anything else?_ He closed his book. "I was just about to head out to the market and get something to make us for dinner. Any requests?"

 

Blaine's head snapped up from where it rested on the back of the couch. "You're eating dinner?"

 

Kurt frowned. "I always eat dinner, Blaine."

 

Such a short sentence shouldn't have incited the amount of anger that Blaine felt, but it was like Kurt's words lit a gasoline-soaked fuse inside him. "You do not!" he exclaimed. "You haven't eaten dinner in the last three weeks, maybe longer!"

 

"I have –"

 

"A handful of cereal or a banana or a few bites of mashed potatoes?" Blaine snapped. "That doesn't count as dinner, Kurt."

 

"Just because you haven't seen me eat doesn't mean that I'm not eating," Kurt said indignantly, getting up from the couch.

 

Now he was just fanning the flame. "Oh, great, lie to me. Because that'll make everything better." Blaine crossed his arms over his chest.

 

"I'm not lying!" Kurt cried, stomping into the kitchen, and Blaine got up and stomped right after him. "I ate Rachel's chicken and roasted potatoes two nights ago – but you wouldn't have known that, of course, since you were _sleeping_ in the middle of the _afternoon_." He pulled several clean glasses from the top drawer of the dishwasher and put them in the cabinets, making as much noise as he could.

 

"Since when is taking a _nap_ a punishable offense?"

 

Kurt glared, and yeah, maybe Blaine's voice had risen just a little louder than he'd meant for it to that time. He leaned against the wall, fingers pressed to his temples, and took a few deep breaths to try and calm down. Before Violet, they hardly ever fought like this – of course they'd had squabbles, but it never included the blatant finger pointing and bitterness like their fights had lately. He wondered, not for the first time, if wanting a baby in the first place had been a mistake.

 

"Kurt," Blaine tried again in a measured voice, "I'm sick of fighting with you all the time about this. I wish you'd just tell me the truth, admit that you have a problem or something, instead of –"

 

"Oh, really?" Kurt interrupted angrily. " _Me_ admit that _I_ have a problem? _I'm_ not the one who's binge drinking!"

 

"You act like I'm an alcoholic or something!" he thundered. _So much for calming down._ "It just takes the edge off. And it's not like I drink all the time."

 

"Oh yeah? How many drinks did you have this morning?"

 

"Two," Blaine scowled. "And so did Rachel. At _brunch_. _Everybody_ drinks at brunch, Kurt. _You_ drink at brunch." He sighed, letting his arms flop to the sides. "I just don't see what the big deal is. It helps, sometimes. It makes me feel happy."

 

"Oh, yeah, you've been a fucking ray of sunshine lately," Kurt grumbled, clattering plates together as he stacked them on top of each other.

 

"Like you've been any better," Blaine snapped back, his hands on his hips. "I'm sure not eating anything all day is making you feel _awesome_ –"

 

"Did you ever think that my bad mood might not have anything to do with _eating_ , but moreso the fact that I have had it up to _here_ with being only one pulling his weightaround here!"

 

Blaine recoiled, physically and emotionally. He was, for the most part, immune to Kurt's jabbing retorts, but when they did come, they were swift and pointed and could hurt Blaine like barbs in his skin.

 

"Look …" Kurt said, resting his forehead on the tips of his fingers, clearly aware of exactly how his words had affected his husband. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

 

"Are you sure about that?" Blaine asked, his voice cold.

 

"Blaine –"

 

But Blaine was _really_ angry now, because Kurt didn't say things like that if he didn't mean them somewhere deep down. "No, I want to know," he said, his blood boiling. "Tell me how you really feel about it, Kurt. Tell me how lazy you think I am, tell me how you hate that I don't keep the house as neat as you want it, how I always mess up whatever you've just cleaned, how I don't take out the trash as often as you like. Tell me I'm not making any money. Tell me I'm not as _strong_ as you are." If Kurt could push his buttons, well, he could push right back.

 

When Kurt finally looked up at him, his eyes were hard. "I think you've just about covered it, Blaine. I don't think I have to tell you anything."

 

Blaine was a little surprised at how much that stung, coming out of Kurt's mouth.

 

"Fine, then," he snapped, throwing his words like knives. He grabbed Romeo's leash. "Screw my nap. Come on, Romeo – let's see if taking you for a walk will make Papa happy with me, or if he'll just be glad that I'm not here to mess up his pretty house and distract him from his pretty clothes."

 

He stormed out of the door, practically dragging Romeo behind him. Kurt didn't say a word.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which tensions inside the Anderson-Hummel house are high, friends outside of it are worried, and in the middle of it all, Nick moves to New York.

**Chapter 18**

**Sunday, August 6 th, 2023**

"Whatcha doin'?"

 

Kurt gasped, jerking in surprise, and sent the spool of thread he was holding in his hand clattering to the ground. "God, Tori, you can't just sneak up on a person like that."

 

"Sorry. Just wondering what you're doing in here on a Sunday morning …"

 

"I could ask you the same question," Kurt said chasing the little spool as it rolled around the room. "Now look, see what you did?"

 

Tori lifted the toe of her Doc Marten a few inches off the ground and caught the spool of thread as it rolled her way. "I left my bag in here yesterday," she said, placing the thread in Kurt's outstretched hand. "I came back to get it. Now, what are _you_ doing?"

 

"I'm organizing all of our thread by type, color, and length," he said. "It's driving me crazy – nobody puts them back in the right place."

 

"Kurt?" Tori said.

 

"Yes?"

 

"It's Sunday. What are you _actually_ doing here?"

 

He hunched his shoulders and crossed his arms over his stomach, nearly folding in on himself. "Our place just feels really small right now," he said softly.

 

"What do you mean?" she asked, her big boots clomping on the wood as she came over to lean on the table in front of him.

 

"It's stupid. We've got 900 square feet, which is like living in a castle compared to a lot of people," he told her. "But – I don't know, I just feel like I can't breathe at home. Like I'm suffocating."

 

"Problems with your husband?" she asked.

 

"I don't know," Kurt fretted. "I shouldn't be talking to you about this. You don't even –"

 

"Kurt," she interrupted, placing her hand atop his, "I've been through this before, remember? Or something similar, at least. It's hard. It's hard on _any_ relationship, even your ridiculous gay high school sweetheart fairy tale love story. God, who even _does_ that?"

 

Kurt closed his eyes. "Tori. Do you have a point?"

 

She scuffed her boot on the floor. "Look, you can talk to me if you want, okay? I won't say anything as long as you don't tell people I'm being nice."

 

He opened his eyes, but didn't say anything.

 

"Does this make you feel better?" Tori asked, holding up a spool of thread. "Putting things in order so you don't have to focus about how your life is totally _out_ of order?"

 

His mouth fell agape for a split second before he snapped it shut. "It just gave me something to do," he said, a little bite in his voice. "I don't want to be at home, so why not be here? And what's wrong with cleaning?"

 

She raised her pierced eyebrow. "Nothing. Never said there was." She gathered her bag off the table. "I'll just leave you to it then –"

 

"Wait," Kurt pleaded suddenly, his voice soft. He couldn't look at her, could only focus on the string of purple thread he was winding and unwinding around his finger. He was fiercely private, proud to a fault, but there was no one else – Rachel didn't understand, his dad would worry, and Blaine … well, _Blaine._

"Blaine and I are fighting."

 

Tori pulled up a stool.

 

"We've never fought like this before." He looked up at her. "Did you and your – husband? Boyfriend?"

 

"Boyfriend," she supplied.

 

"Did you fight a lot? After – well, back when you –"

 

She looked down. "We broke up, Kurt."

 

He felt like a cannonball had just been dropped down his throat and into his stomach. "When?" he whispered.

 

"About six months after. We just – it wasn't ever the same after that. I just wanted my baby back, and he couldn't give that to me, so …"

 

"Oh god," Kurt said, fumbling with the spool of thread, feeling his face turn white. "Oh _god_ –"

 

"Kurt –"

 

"He's my best friend." Kurt's voice was panicked, insistent. "He – I don't think you understand, Tori, he –"

 

" _Kurt_. Stop. I never said –" She twisted her snake bracelet around her wrist. "You just asked if we fought. We did. A lot. And badly. But we'd only known each other six months, and he was – he didn't understand, I don't think he _could_ , he didn't want it like I did –"

 

"Right. It's different, right? It's got to be _different_ , Blaine wanted a baby and we've been together for _years_ andI –" He broke off, pressing his fist tight against his mouth, overcome. "I can't lose him, too," he choked out, fighting the tears, squeezing his eyes shut tight against them. "I lost her, but I can't lose him – I _can't_ , Tori, I don't know how to breathe without him –"

 

"Okay," she cooed, a tone he'd never heard from her before, and fuck, life just wasn't fair, because he knew she'd have made a wonderful mother. "Okay, come here, honey." He let himself be pulled into her heavily tattooed arms, rested his head on her shoulder.

 

They sat like that until his breathing calmed, and he was swiping his sleeve across his face when she suddenly glared at him. "And just so we're clear," she said, "I'm not kidding, Hummel, if _anyone_ finds out I'm being nice to you …"

 

When he laughed, it felt like a bird fluttering its wings inside his chest.

*** * ***

**Monday, August 7 th, 2023**

It was three in the afternoon, and Blaine was on his second nap of the day. Or, trying to be, at least. He tossed and turned, tried to read a book, tried a different book, but he couldn't get comfortable and he couldn't go to sleep. He was still upset about fighting with Kurt on Friday, and he couldn't even deny that the things they said weren't true. He _was_ lazy. He _wasn't_ pulling his weight. He _wasn't_ making any money, wasn't even trying to write. But it wasn't that he didn't want to, he simply didn't have the energy to get out of bed most days.

 

There was one thing he could do, though, to try and make Kurt a little happier. He might not have been able to get out of bed during the day, but he could stay out of the clubs and bars at night.

 

With a groan, he picked up his cell phone.

 

"Hey Blaine, I haven't heard from you in a while!" Alex said, sounding cheery on the other end of the line. "How're things? You need another night out?"

 

"Actually, Alex," Blaine said, pulling the covers up around his neck, "I think I'm done with nights out for a while."

 

"Oh, that's a shame – Kurt been on your case?"

 

"Something like that," he mumbled.

 

"Well, it's probably for the best. The publishing house has been on my ass about the fact that we haven't seen anything from you lately," Alex told him.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I've been really lazy lately –"

 

"Blaine, I didn't say that. But I'd really love to see an outline, or a draft, or at least an idea sometime soon …"

 

Blaine was quiet.

 

"You there, man?" Alex asked.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," Blaine said, scrubbing his face with his hand. "It's just –"

 

"It's just what?"

 

"Nothing. No, you're right – I need to get my ass in gear. Kurt's working all the time; I could at least try to be a little productive."

 

"Blaine?"

 

He sighed. "Yeah?"

 

"Are you okay? Because I don't want to rush you if you need more time."

 

He almost laughed. Time? What would _time_ do? The only thing he was doing with his time was wasting it.

 

"Yeah, Alex. I'm fine."

 

* * *

 

**Wednesday, August 9 th, 2023**

"Kurt, are you finished cleaning the shower yet? I actually need to take one …"

 

Kurt sighed, holding a toothbrush against the grout as he stood in the middle of the tub. "Blaine, don't come in; I look ridiculous." Flip-flops, old gym shorts, an old undershirt and bright green gloves covering half his forearms did not a fashion statement make.

 

"Kurt, seriously?" came Blaine's voice from outside the door. At least the man had enough sense to follow orders.

 

"Yes, seriously. And no, I'm not done yet. Can't you wait? It's not like you're about to be late for something," he said, wiping his forehead with the bare part of his arm. "The amount of soap scum we can accumulate in a week is kind of insane."

 

"I thought you just cleaned it on Sunday." Blaine sounded perturbed. "Is this some obsessive coping mechanism you've suddenly developed? Does it make you _feel better_ , cleaning everything?"

 

"Does it make you _feel better_ , drinking and sleeping all day?" he snapped, scrubbing harder. "And yes, if it means anything to you, it does make me feel …" _What? Like I'm not free-falling? Like the world isn't tilting on its axis anymore?_ "… better, keeping things clean. Do you have a problem with that? I thought you _liked_ a clean house."

 

"I do! I just have a problem with the fact that it's interfering with the rest of our lives."

 

Oh, now Kurt was livid. " _Our_ lives? I'm not sure what part of _our_ lives you're talking about, because I think it's just _my_ share of the cleaning duties that have doubled in the last month. Did you even _look_ at the kitchen yesterday?"

 

He could feel the tension through the bathroom door. "You know what? Fine," Blaine said in a clipped voice. Kurt could hear him stomping out, and through the wall in their small condo, could hear him banging around in the kitchen.

 

Kurt scrubbed the tiles harder and thought for the first time in _years_ of Miss Pillsbury and her bright green rubber gloves. It unnerved him how much she reminded him of himself in that moment.

 

"There!" Blaine yelled, filling their home with a voice that Kurt didn't hear very often. "I emptied the trash!"

 

Kurt could hear more banging, the clattering of dishes and glasses, and soon Blaine's voice followed with, "And picked up all the dirty dishes!"

 

He stomped back into the bedroom, and Kurt heard lots of rustling through the doorway behind him. "And now all these dirty clothes that you hate so much are in _baskets_ _where they belong_ ," Blaine mocked.

 

A few seconds later, he stormed into the bathroom, where Kurt was still facing the shower wall. "Are you happy now?" Blaine asked, fuming. "Am I being _good_ enough for you? Not so _lazy_?"

 

"I asked you not to come in here," Kurt said, keeping his voice under tight control.

 

"And I think that's _ridiculous_ ," Blaine said. "Hell, Kurt, I've seen you puking your guts up on the bathroom floor, I've seen you with the flu, I've seen you after a workout – your _cleaning gear_ isn't going to scare me off, I promise."

 

Kurt took a deep breath before turning around, swearing to himself that he wouldn't fly off the handle – Blaine was being volatile enough by himself, if _both_ of them lost it …

 

"I never said anything about not being good enough. You asked why I clean so much, and I told you." His voice never shook, not even when he realized just how _angry_ Blaine was.

 

"Why are you being so _calm_ about this?" Blaine demanded, his pitch rising. "You're making me feel like a jackass, yelling at you, and you're just sitting there cleaning –"

 

"What do you want me to do, Blaine? Yell at you? Because I can, if that would make you feel better about yelling at _me_ …"

 

Blaine stared at him with wide, furious eyes for a moment before turning and smacking the door with his open palm. "You know what? I'm going to the gym. I'll be back later."

 

"Fantastic. Make sure you remember to tape your hands this time."

 

Kurt waited until the door slammed shut behind Blaine before he let his face twist and banged his own fist against the shower wall.

 

He let a few tears leak out, then heard whining behind him. It was Romeo.

 

"I'm sorry," he said wearily, stepping out of the bathtub and sinking down onto the bath mat, his knees tucked under his chin. "I know Daddy and I are fighting a lot." Romeo trotted forward, licking his face.

 

"God, I'm glad that puppy love is unconditional," Kurt whispered into his fur. "Thanks, buddy." He gathered Romeo up in his arms and groaned as he stood. "Come on, let's go watch some Project Runway, okay?"

 

* * *

 

**Friday, August 11 th, 2023**

"Are you going to make this a habit or something, showing up here out of the blue?" Kurt asked as Rachel sauntered toward him.

 

"For as long as I'm needed," she said cheerfully. She smiled, holding up her now-familiar pink tote bag. "I brought lunch!"

 

"Of course you did." He looked up, and sure enough, Marc was there, giving him a thumbs-up.

 

"Fine. Let me finish this hem, and I'll take my break," he said, resigned.

 

* * *

 

"Okay, so do you have an actual agenda this time, or are you just trying to feed me?" Kurt asked, leading Rachel out of the studio and down the street to some benches.

 

"I wanted to talk to you about something, actually," she said, pulling containers of food out of her bag. " _And_ feed you."

 

"Well then, talk away," Kurt said, leaning back.

 

"You said you were worried about Blaine," she said, serving the purple plastic plate she pulled out of her bag without even asking what he wanted.

 

Luckily she had grilled chicken, which he actually could eat most of, and roasted asparagus, which he thought might have potential.

 

"I _am_ worried about Blaine," Kurt said, spearing a piece of the asparagus with his fork.

 

"I went to brunch with him last week, and we met for a late lunch the other day," she said. "And – Kurt, he seems fine. I mean, he's sad, and he doesn't want to talk about Violet, but – I don't want you to use him to keep me from focusing on your problems."

 

He stared at her. "What?"

 

She sighed, a pained expression on her face. "I feel like he's handling things, handling _himself_ , a little better than you are, and I just – I'm so worried about you. I've never seen you like this before –"

 

Kurt could feel blood rushing to his cheeks. "You know, I'm not sure which part I'm more mad about."

 

"Kurt –"

 

"I don't know whether to be pissed because you're saying that you know my own husband better than I do, and you know how he's reacting after having _two meals_ with him, or because you're saying I can't _handle_ myself. Which one of us is working here, hmm? Which one of us is functioning, cleaning the house, taking Romeo out, not sleeping all day –"

 

"That's not what I meant!"

 

"What _did_ you mean, then?"

 

"You're scaring me!" Rachel exclaimed, her face crumbling as she began to cry. "You're just – you're disappearing in front of me!" She brought her hands to her face, wiping her mascara-stained tears away. "What am I _supposed_ to think? That you're fine, that you're – _handling_ yourself?" she gasped. "You're not fine, Kurt!"

 

"No," he said, shocked by her tears. "No, I'm not."

 

"Then let me help you," she said, black streaks running down her face. "Let _Blaine_ help you."

 

"Blaine's too depressed to be any good to anybody right now, including himself," Kurt said, looking at the ground.

 

"Well _I'm_ not."

 

"How are you going to help, exactly?" Kurt asked. "You can't bring her back, Rach."

 

"No, I can't. Nobody can."

 

"Then what –"

 

"I can keep bringing you food," Rachel said resolutely, squaring her shoulders, "until you finally eat it. I can be here when you want to cry, and I can keep taking Blaine out for brunch –"

 

"No more mimosas for Blaine," Kurt interrupted sternly.

 

"– and I can – I don't know, Kurt, I can be your best friend, just like I've always been. What do you _need_?"

 

He laughed, willing his voice not to break. "A time machine." He paused, looking down at his knees, then back up at Rachel's tear-streaked face. "I'm sorry. I'm not myself, and Blaine's not himself, and –"

 

"You hush now," she said, shaking her finger at him. "You have _nothing_ to apologize for –"

 

"I do, but thank you for saying that," Kurt said, leaning into her outstretched arms.

 

"God, Kurt, I can feel your collarbones through your shirt! Here – eat more asparagus!" she said, breaking loose from their embrace and digging through her bag again.

 

* * *

 

**Friday, August 18 th, 2023**

A week had passed, and Kurt had counted four bad days and three worse ones. On bad days, he and Blaine were cold and distant, and he didn't feel like eating much. On worse ones, he and Blaine yelled, and he couldn't keep anything down. The dizzy spells that had only happened once in a while were coming on more often.

 

But as angry as he was at Blaine, and as bad as the week had been, there were still moments of tenderness – Blaine spooning potatoes in his mouth one night when he was too frustrated and crying too hard to do it himself, a morning when they woke up in each other's arms and, for just a few moments, the world felt right again.

 

As for that morning – well so far, so good. A docile Friday, they'd gotten up early, pulled on jeans and t-shirts and ate breakfast in silence beside each other – Kurt, a handful of pretzels, and Blaine a bowl of cereal and a big thermos of coffee. By the time they'd left the house, they'd said about ten words to each other, but they weren't fighting. What Kurt didn't want to admit was that it was more for Nick's sake than theirs – they were helping him move, and neither of them wanted to be in a bad mood when they got to his place. They walked in peaceful silence as they made the short, four-and-a-half block walk to Nick's new apartment.

 

Unfortunately, the truce only lasted about a block.

 

"Kurt, I don't want you lifting anything heavy today," Blaine said hesitantly as they made their way down the sidewalk.

 

"And why not, exactly?" Kurt asked, bristling. "I'm just as capable of doing physical activity as you are."

 

"I saw you grab the counter yesterday to steady yourself, Kurt. I don’t want you passing out on me."

 

And just like that – truce over.

 

"I am _so fucking sick_ ," Kurt growled through his teeth, "of you treating me like a fucking _china doll_. I'm not going to break."

 

"I just don't want you to hurt yourself," Blaine said quietly, clearly concerned. "I can feel your ribs when I hug you. I can see your backbone when you bend over. Your clothes are too big. I – Kurt –"

 

Kurt stared at him. "I didn't know you'd noticed," he mumbled.

 

"Of course I noticed – how could I _not_ notice? How much weight have you lost? Ten pounds? Fifteen?"

 

"I – this isn't an appropriate place to be having this conversation," Kurt snapped. "I don't like airing our dirty laundry out in the open like this."

 

"Kurt, I'm just –"

 

"Worried, yes, I know. _Everybody_ is worried about me. I'm worried about you, too, considering you drink more than ever, you never want to get out of bed, and it appears that a small animal has taken up residence on your _face_."

 

"I'm just scruffy, Kurt – and I haven't been out with Alex in almost two weeks!"

 

"Whatever, Blaine, we're done talking about this. We're going to go and we're going to help our friend move into his apartment and we're going to act like nothing's wrong, _okay_?"

 

"Oh, so you want to act like my _parents_ now? Fine. I've had a lot of practice. I won't embarrass you, don't worry," Blaine snapped, walking faster so he was several paces ahead of his husband.

 

"Asshole," Kurt muttered, and looked at the ground.

 

* * *

 

Tensions ran high even after they'd arrived at Nick's, especially after Nick agreed with Blaine that maybe Kurt should stick to lighter boxes, and leave the heavier, bulkier furniture to the two of them.

 

Kurt scowled, picked up a table lamp, and didn't speak to either of them for a full two hours.

 

In spite of the awkward silence that clearly made Nick uncomfortable and, later, the squabbling that clearly made it _worse,_ they worked quickly, and by noon, they were down to the last several boxes at the back of the truck.

 

Blaine was breathing heavily after helping Nick manhandle his mattress up the three flights of stairs and into his bedroom.

 

"Almost done," Nick said as Blaine helped him place the mattress on top of his box springs. "Just a few more boxes left …"

 

"Yep – let's hit it hard and then we can grab lunch," Blaine said, grabbing a water bottle and taking a long swig from it. "What do you want to –"

 

He was interrupted by a loud crash coming from the stairwell.

 

"Kurt?" he called, running out the door. "Are you okay?"

 

His heart threatened to stop when there was no answer, and he sprinted down a full flight of stairs before seeing Kurt, who was leaning heavily against the wall, his face white as a sheet. A cardboard box was overturned at his feet, hardback and paperback books strewn all over the stairs.

 

"Kurt, hey, sit down for me," Blaine said gently after flying to Kurt's side, hooking his arm around Kurt's waist and lowering him to the ground as he silently panicked.

 

"Stop it," Kurt said, trying to bat him away. "I'm not an invalid. I just dropped the box. I just – I need some water or something."

 

"You need _calories_ ," Blaine said. He wanted to cry – this was what he'd been terrified of all along, Kurt collapsing, Kurt _leaving_ him like Violet left him, Kurt couldn't _leave_ him. "Nick!" he called, trying to keep his voice steady. "Do you have any Gatorade up there?"

 

Within seconds, Nick was bounding down the stairs. "Oh shit – do I need to call 911? Did you hit your head?"

 

"Oh my god, will you both please calm down?" Kurt said, taking the bottle of blue Gatorade from Nick's hand. "I tripped. I dropped the box. I'm fine."

 

"Kurt –" Blaine started, then stopped when he noticed Kurt's hands shaking too hard to open the lid. "Oh, baby, here …"

 

"Don't _oh, baby_ me," Kurt grumbled, but Blaine ignored him. He unscrewed the cap and stooped next to his husband, tipping the bottle up to his lips.

 

"I'm _fine_ , Blaine," Kurt said after he swallowed, anger thick in his voice. "I'll just go sit down for a few minutes."

 

"You're sitting for the rest of the day," Blaine said firmly.

 

"I'm not a child!"

 

"Seriously, Kurt, Blaine's right – I don't want you carrying anything else," Nick said cautiously. "You've done so much to help already, and there are only a few boxes left – the two of us can manage just fine."

 

Kurt glared at them as they each grabbed one of his elbows, but it was evident that he needed the support, leaning heavily on them as he made his way up the stairs.

 

"Nick and I were just talking about lunch," Blaine said carefully. "Do you think you might –"

 

"A sandwich," Kurt said, too fast. "If you get me a turkey sandwich, I think I can eat that."

 

Blaine looked sideways at him, struck by his pale, sallow skin and his sunken eyes. How had they let things come to this? "Okay." He paused. "Okay, we can do sandwiches. That good with you, Nick?"

 

"Sounds great," Nick said, letting go of Kurt so Blaine could help him through the doorway.

 

"Will you really eat it?" Blaine asked softly as he settled Kurt down on the couch.

 

"Light mayo, multigrain bread if they have it, tomatoes, extra lettuce, but no pickles. The thought of vinegar turns my stomach. And yes, I will eat it. Or, I'll try." He paused. "I'm still mad at you."

 

Blaine blinked at him. He realized that Kurt could be mad at him all day long and he wouldn't care – he just wanted him to eat. "Okay, then. Um, Nick and I are going to go finish unloading the truck, okay?"

 

Kurt nodded at him, and he and Nick walked back out the door. He couldn't help but look over his shoulder back at Kurt just before they descended the stairs. He was lying on the couch, his eyes closed, and Blaine could tell he was trying very hard not to cry.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which life at the Anderson-Hummel is a roller coaster than neither Kurt nor Blaine can seem to get off of...

**Chapter 19**

 

**Sunday, August 20 th, 2023**

"Hey, kiddo." Burt's warm voice boomed into Kurt's ear through his cell phone, and Kurt set the pencil that had been clutched tightly in his hand down on the table.

 

"Hey, Dad."

 

"I haven't heard from you or Blaine in a while. How're my boys doing?"

 

 _We're barely hanging on by a thread._ "We're fine."

 

"Now that's a cop-out answer if I ever heard one," Burt said. "You're _fine_ , Kurt?"

 

"We're fine, Dad," he repeated, glancing over to the couch where Blaine was lying flat on his back. He actually _did_ look fine for the moment, a book held open over his face, sipping on a mimosa he'd made himself. It was a beautiful day outside already, and the morning sun was streaming through their windows, lighting up his perfect profile. Kurt tipped his head to the side, wistfully gazing at his husband, wishing he could go back in time to when things were better.

 

"Huh," his dad grunted, bringing him back to the present. "I don’t need to take a couple vacation days, come see you? Make sure you're taking care of yourselves?"

 

Kurt was too quick to answer. "No!" he said sharply, then softer, "No. We're fine. Rachel's cooking for us, and Nick just moved up here – he was in the Warblers with Blaine and me, do you remember him? And I'm working. We're fine."

 

"You keep sayin' that, but I haven't believed it yet."

 

Kurt let out a silent sigh. It was just like his dad to be able to read his mind through a phone line. "Well what will make you believe it?"

 

"I'll believe it when it's true, Kurt. It's too soon to be true, yet. You should stop lying to yourself – believe it or not, it'll make things easier."

 

Kurt looked down at the desk where papers were spread, lists of models, of looks, of all the work he still had to do. "Dad – I need to go."

 

"Oh no you don't. You can't keep pulling away from me like this –"

 

"I've got a lot of work to do. I'll call you later, okay?" Kurt said, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.

 

"Kurt –" Burt paused. "Okay." Kurt could hear the resignation in his voice. "Okay, but I'll be expecting a call. And I want to talk to Blaine sometime, too."

 

"Okay. I love you."

 

"Yeah, love you too, kiddo."

 

Kurt sighed and looked at the ceiling, leaning farther back in his chair. "I know they mean well, but sometimes I just get so tired of people trying to help."

 

He waited a moment for Blaine's response and continued when there wasn't one. "Whatever happened to 'going at your own pace,' anyway? I mean, isn't that supposed to be healthy?" He paused, turning around to face his husband. "Blaine?"

 

"Huh?" Blaine said, his head jerking up. "Were you talking to me?"

 

Kurt raised his eyebrows and ignored the question. "What are you reading?"

 

Blaine smiled. " _The Fellowship of the Ring_ ," he answered. "It's a nice world to get lost in. And Frodo's problems make ours seem not quite as bad."

 

"Must be nice," Kurt muttered softly, turning back to his work.

 

"What was that?" Blaine asked, his voice sharp.

 

Kurt stared down at his sketchpad, his tone flat as he dismissed Blaine's question. "Nothing."

 

"Kurt, seriously."

 

He turned back around. "All I'm saying," he said tiredly, fighting frustration as Blaine took a sip from his glass, "is that it must be nice to be able to just escape in a book with a mimosa. Or seven. I don't have that luxury."

 

Blaine frowned. "Kurt, it's Sunday morning, and I have not had _seven_ mimosas. And who says you don't have that luxury?" Kurt considered this for a moment until he heard Blaine mutter under his breath, "God knows _I'm_ not saying that …"

 

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

 

Blaine sighed heavily. "Nothing. It doesn't mean anything, Kurt, never mind. I just wish –"

 

"It clearly means _something_ if you said it, right?" Kurt said, feeling the heat creep up his neck.

 

"You know, I'm not going to be baited into this today. This is the first day that I've felt halfway human in weeks, and I'm going to enjoy my book and not fight with you."

 

"Blaine –"

 

But Blaine didn't let him finish. He picked up his book and his glass and retreated to their bedroom without a word, shutting the door with a determined _click_.

 

Kurt stared down the hall at the closed door for a long time. He was beginning to feel like he had a roommate rather than a husband, that their beautiful, intimate marriage was morphing into something ugly and distant. He sighed and looked down at his left hand where his wedding band rested on his ring finger. He slid his thumb over the metal, warmed by his skin, then pulled it off.

 

His stomach soured instantly. He could see the indentation in his finger where the band had left a semi-permanent mark, and he felt naked, his hand too light without it on. Swallowing hard, he turned the ring on its side, the platinum glinting in the sunlight, and read the tiny inscription.

 

_My missing puzzle piece, I'm complete_

_11-4-16_

He looked back up at the closed bedroom door and wanted to cry. He didn't feel very complete, not with Blaine and him at each other's throats all the time. Closing his eyes, Kurt slowly slipped the ring back on his finger, trying to remember how it felt when Blaine had done it at their wedding. _I will love you and honor you all the days of my life_ , they'd sworn to each other. Kurt was ashamed to think of how little loving and honoring either of them had been doing lately.

 

"I'll try to do better, I promise," he whispered, then turned back to his work, wanting to give Blaine time to cool off before he apologized.

 

* * *

 

Blaine had just reached the part in his book where Frodo and company meet Tom Bombadil in the forest when his phone rang. He was perturbed that his happy reverie was being interrupted until he saw who was calling.

 

Blaine smiled, put down his book and picked up his mimosa. "Hey Jeff. How's Chicago treating you?"

 

"Hey! Chicago's not great, to be honest," Jeff said. "Everything just feels sort of stupid without Nick here. It's stupidly hot and stupidly lonely and – I know he's only been gone for two days, and _I'm_ being stupid. I've already started to call him and ask him if he wants to do lunch or coffee like three times before I realize he doesn't live here anymore. Just … ignore me."

 

"Huh," Blaine mused, "That's interesting, since he seems to be under the impression that you're mad at him."

 

Blaine could practically see the sheepish smile fall over Jeff's face as he answered. "Yeah – I kind of gave him the cold shoulder about moving. I feel pretty bad. Actually – that's kind of what I was calling about."

 

"I'm not apologizing for you, if that's what you're asking. You guys have been friends long enough that you can do that yourself."

 

"No, no, I'm planning to call him tonight – wish him good luck with the new job and everything, you know? No, I was actually calling to ask you a different favor."

 

"What's that?" Blaine asked, leaning back against the pillows.

 

"I know that you and Kurt are going through a lot of shit right now, and I'm really sorry for that," Jeff said. "But I was wondering – could you kind of keep an eye on Nick for me? This break-up thing is affecting him more than he'll let on, I think. I'm a little worried about him."

 

"I think we'll be keeping an eye on each other, then. Kurt's just about giddy with the fact that I'll have a friend in town who'll hang out with me without going out and getting me wasted."

 

"Just as long as you do the same for him. You don't want him wasted anyway – he's annoying and he wants to _sing_ , _Jeff_! And then he either passes out, or pukes and then passes out."

 

"That sounds _way_ too familiar," Blaine laughed. "Hey, when are you coming to visit? I'd love for the four of us to get together."

 

"I don't know, but it has been a while since we've all been in the same room, even. Not since –"

 

"Not since Violet's baby shower, I know," Blaine mumbled, finishing the last of his mimosa in one gulp. "Don't remind me."

 

Blaine could hear the cringe in Jeff's voice. "Sorry."

 

"It's okay, I just don't want to talk about it," he said. "Listen, I've got some stuff I've got to get done this morning –" _like reading my book_ , he thought, _so I can start on the next one_ , "– so I'm gonna let you go. But don't worry about Nick – we'll make sure he's settling in okay."

 

"Thanks, Blaine. I appreciate it."

 

Blaine reopened his book once he hung up the phone, singing Tom Bombadil's song softly to himself. It was the tune he'd made up when he first read the books as a young teenager to entertain himself, discontent to read lyrics when they could be sung instead.

 

As he finished the last lines, " _Tom's going home again water-lilies bringing. Hey! Come derry-dol! Can you hear me singing?_ " he looked up to see Kurt watching him from the doorway. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and Kurt smiled at him.

 

"I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier," he said.

 

Blaine shrugged. "It's ok. Why the sudden change, though?"

 

"I heard you singing," Kurt said simply, then looked down, playing with his wedding band. "I'm glad it's a good day for you today." He paused. "I hope I didn't ruin it."

 

"Kurt –" Blaine started, then stopped himself. "No. No, you didn't ruin it." It wasn't a lie exactly – Kurt had come pretty close to ruining his good mood, but the apology was definitely turning things back in the right direction. "Look, if you want –"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"You can work in here, if you want. I promise not to distract you – I'll just sit here and read."

 

Kurt shrugged. "My desk is bigger out there," he said. "But – it's so sunny out. If you want to come read on the couch again …"

 

"Yeah, okay," Blaine said. It was admittedly nicer out there, where he could stretch out on the couch in the sunlight, bathe in it like a cat while he read. He grabbed his book and got up to follow Kurt, and it hit him when his feet landed with a dull thump on the floor that all the spring had left his step, had gone when Violet had. Lately he'd just slumped about or stomped around or floated like a spirit, depending on his level of melancholy, but he never bounced or danced anymore, never jumped up from the bed or the couch like he was bound for adventure.

 

All he was bound for now, he felt, was sorrow, even on a good day.

 

Kurt glanced behind him at Blaine's dragging feet, gave him a little half smile, and Blaine couldn't help feeling a little sad at how awkward he'd become with Kurt in recent months, how he felt like he was tripping and stumbling around a man he'd known and loved for half his life.

 

If this was what hope was going to feel like from now on, if _this_ was going to be what good days were, strained smiles and faltering conversation and bare existence… Blaine was just so _tired_. It took so much _energy,_ grieving and fighting with Kurt and _not_ fighting with Kurt, and god was _hope_ really supposed to feel like _this_?

 

He wondered, as he flopped onto the sunlight swathed couch, if he should stop hoping at all.

 

* * *

 

**Thursday, August 24 th, 2023**

Kurt's promise to do better lasted for three mostly-peaceful days, until all hell broke loose at the studio. Then all bets were off.

 

A model was screeching at the top of her lungs, claiming that she'd smear the name of Marc Jacobs everywhere she went while the mild-mannered designer looked on. He'd told her not to bother showing up for the Fashion Week show after she was late for her fitting a second time, and then he'd replaced her with a girl a little younger and admittedly a little prettier than she was.

 

She hadn't taken it well.

 

"Tori," Kurt whispered as they watched side-by-side as the drama unfolded, "is your head splitting open? Because my head is _splitting open_."

 

"I bet you can go home for the day, if you want," Tori whispered back to him. "It's almost five, anyway. I don’t think Marc would mind."

 

"You don't think so?" Kurt asked.

 

She shook her head, and he sighed. "I might go, then," he said. "I wasn't exaggerating about my head."

 

She squeezed his hand quickly as the model started waving a 5-inch heel around wildly in the air. "Go before you're javelined with a stiletto. Feel better, okay?"

 

He nodded, and made a quiet exit from the studio to the busy street below.

 

Kurt's subway ride wasn't much better than his day at work. He missed the F train by just a few seconds, and would have waited for the next one, but quickly changed his mind when he heard gagging, and saw the guy standing a few feet away from him throw up forcefully onto the platform and the tracks below them. He wanted to be on whatever car that guy _wasn't_ , and the next M train was his ticket away from the vile stench.

 

But as his luck would have it, he managed to pick a car packed full of people, and on an _unreasonably_ hot day in August, it didn't smell particularly pleasant. It was certainly a step up from the subway platform covered in vomit, but the odor of sweaty bodies plus the girl singing along with her earbuds, off-key, right in his ear, was almost more than he could handle for even a mere three minute ride.

 

Once he'd reached his stop, he walked up the stairs into the blinding sunlight, half-carried along by the rest of the crowd. He wanted an ibuprofen and a bath five minutes ago, but he had an 8-block walk home before he could have either.

 

He finally arrived home, sans vest and scowling at the sweat stains under his armpits, ready to accept sympathy kisses from Blaine and soak in warm water for the rest of the day.

 

What he _wasn't_ ready for was to find Blaine and Nick sitting side-by-side on the couch, large mixing bowls full of popcorn in their laps, watching _Top Gun_ in the dark.

 

"Hey, Kurt!" Nick greeted him over the roar of fighter jets.

 

"Hello, Nick."

 

"You're home early," Blaine said, rushing to turn the T.V. down. "Nick had a half-day at work today because of a meeting, so he came over here to watch movies."

 

Kurt nodded. "I can see that."

 

Blaine considered him carefully, then turned to Nick. "Hang on a second. I'll be right back – you don’t have to pause it or anything. I've seen this about a hundred times."

 

Nick nodded, and Blaine tugged Kurt back to their bedroom, shutting the door. "Okay, what did I do this time?"

 

Kurt gaped at him, retracting his wish for sympathy kisses. "God, Blaine, not everything's about you, you know," he snapped.

 

"Well, lately, when you're mad, it's because of something I've done. I can tell you're in a piss-poor mood, so I just made the obvious connection. I thought you might actually be _happy_ that I was doing something besides drinking with Alex for a change, but …"

 

"Once again, not about you," Kurt sighed heavily. "Did you ever think that I may have just had a bad day at work? All I wanted to come home to was a bath and some pain medicine and some quiet, and maybe a little sympathy from you. And now I'm going to have to settle for a five-minute shower and my earbuds –"

 

"Why can't you take a bath?"

 

"Because Nick is here, and we have one bathroom." _You idiot_ , Kurt added silently.

 

"Well, why don't I tell Nick to go pee _now_ ," Blaine said condescendingly, as if he were speaking to a five year old, "and then _you_ can have the bathroom."

 

"Yeah, that'll be really relaxing, with a guest in my house and explosions going off in the background …"

 

Blaine closed his eyes. "I'm not asking him to leave."

 

"Fine." Kurt crossed his arms over his chest.

 

"Kurt, I'm giving you a way to have exactly what you asked for – and you can hardly hear the T.V. when the bathroom door is shut! What's the problem?" Blaine asked, clearly frustrated.

 

"Can't I have a shitty day once in a while?" Kurt snapped. "I just don't want to be around people –"

 

"Well, I can assure you, people probably don't really want to be around you, either," Blaine said scathingly. "Let me go get Nick, and then the bathroom will be yours for as long as you want it."

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, August 26 th, 2023**

"Blaine, where the hell are my Doc Martens?" Kurt's voice rang through the condo as Blaine was eating a bowl of Cheerios, perched on the kitchen counter. Kurt had been in a terrible mood since their blow-up on Thursday, and Blaine had made it a point to walk on eggshells when he was around, or avoid him altogether. He'd managed to avoid a fight, but it seemed that his luck might have just run out.

 

"Wha –"

 

"My Doc Martens." Kurt strode into the kitchen, looking fantastic but furious sans a pair of tall boots. "What did you do with them?"

 

"Why would I touch your shoes, Kurt? I know better than that," Blaine mumbled through a mouthful of cereal.

 

Kurt put his hands on his hips. "Whatever. Do you want to help me find them, or what?"

 

"I'm kind of eating breakfast," Blaine grumbled. "Our place isn't that big – they couldn't have gone far."

 

"Well I'm kind of late, and _something_ obviously happened to them. I don't think they walked off by themselves, do you?"

 

"Fine," Blaine groaned, setting his bowl down a little harder than necessary, sloshing milk onto the counter and the floor. "Where have you looked?"

 

"Everywhere!"

 

"Over there, even?" Blaine asked, pointing to Kurt's tall, black, chunky boots, tucked into the corner beside the couch.

 

"Oh," Kurt said. "Well. Thank you. I guess you moved them from the shoe rack."

 

Blaine took a deep breath, prepared to back down, but as Kurt's words registered, some sort of switch inside him flipped. He was sick of submitting, sick of letting Kurt have the upper hand – he wanted to fight back for a change, especially after being accused of something that was entirely not his fault. "What the hell – I didn't _touch_ your shoes!" he snapped. "And even if I did, it's not that big of a deal – you found them! It's not like they're not gone forever –"

 

"You _know_ that my shoes stay in the shoe rack, Blaine!" Kurt shouted.

 

"You're right; I do. That's why I didn't _touch_ them, I told you –" Blaine broke off, blinking at him. "God, I can't believe we're fighting about this. I've been trying my _damndest_ not to rock the boat. I've left you alone, I've tried talking with you, I rubbed your back yesterday, and now you're yelling at me for something I didn't even do. I really can't do anything to make you happy, can I?"

 

"You know what would make me happy?" Kurt asked scathingly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "If you cleaned up the mess you just made in the kitchen before we get ants or roaches or something. _That_ would make me happy."

 

"Why don't you just get rid of me and get a maid, then?" Blaine retorted. "I'm sure they'd keep your shoes exactly where you want them and take the trash out and clean the kitchen and –"

 

"I am not doing this with you right now," Kurt said, cutting him off. "I'm already late. I'll see you tonight."

 

He spun on his heel and left, leaving Blaine alone to spit and sputter angrily at the closed door.

*** * ***

**Monday, August 28 th, 2023**

Two days later, Blaine was sitting at the kitchen table with Kurt while he tried to eat dinner. Meals had fast become the hardest, most trying part of the day, and Blaine often felt like a cheerleader for a losing team as he tried over and over and over to encourage Kurt to just _please_ finish one piece of chicken. And that was on good days.

 

On bad days, when they'd been fighting, or when Kurt was being particularly belligerent, Blaine felt like flinging Kurt's plate off the table and onto the floor, shattering it into a million shards.

 

It was a bad day. Blaine had heated up some mashed potatoes, which worked more often than not, but things weren't going so well so far. According to Kurt, he'd had a stressful workday, and on his way up to the condo, a well-meaning but completely dense neighbor had asked him why she hadn't gotten to see the baby and when she might get to babysit. The mashed potatoes were still sitting on his plate.

 

Blaine sighed in frustration – it was like torture, watching Kurt literally disappear in front of him a little bit at a time. He'd woken up in the middle of the night the night before, surprised to find that Kurt had pressed himself against Blaine's chest in his sleep. Any form of physical contact was few and far between lately, so Blaine had taken advantage and thrown his arm around Kurt's middle, tucking him closer.

 

If he'd tried, he could've counted Kurt's ribs. It had scared the hell out of him.

 

"Are you even trying to eat it, or are you just playing with it?" he asked, trying to be patient as Kurt mounded his potatoes in a neat little pile for the hundredth time that evening.

 

"I'm working on it. I have to eat slowly, or I feel sick. You know that."

 

"I know, I know," Blaine said with a sigh, dropping his head into his hands as he fought the urge not to pick up Kurt's fork and just shove a bite into his mouth.

 

"You know you don't have to sit here with me while I eat," Kurt said.

 

"I know," Blaine repeated.

 

Five more minutes passed, and as Kurt stared down at his plate, Blaine let his mind wander back to a conversation they'd had right after Violet had been taken away.

 

They'd been lying in bed for days, and Blaine had never felt more apathetic. He'd been well on his way to having every imperfection in their ceiling memorized when Kurt had suddenly, gracefully, lifted his arm above his head like a ballet dancer, and told Blaine that he thought starvation would be a beautiful way to die. He'd said he wanted to disappear. Blaine had nearly vomited in his own bed at the thought of losing Kurt as well, and it had spurred him into action. Thinking back, though, he'd fallen back into bed, apathetic once again, after he'd ordered them a pizza. He couldn't remember if Kurt had even eaten any of it.

 

Blaine shook his head, thoroughly unsettled, and looked over at Kurt's plate. He'd taken exactly one bite of his potatoes.

 

"Do you want me to heat it up again?" he suggested. "I'm sure it's cold by now. It might taste better …"

 

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Don't kid yourself, Blaine – do you really think that will help? Let's face it – this is all I'm eating tonight," he said, pushing the plate away.

 

Blaine pushed the plate right back. "No. You aren't done yet."

 

"I'm also not five," Kurt snapped. "You think you're going to force-feed me or something? Because I'd _love_ to see you try that …"

 

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Blaine said, holding his hands up. "I just – you're _scaring me_ , Kurt."

 

"I know." Kurt's voice was small. "I'm doing the best I can."

 

"But you're still losing weight," Blaine said, as gently as he could. Inside, he was churning like an angry sea. "Have you – will you go to the doctor? Let them help figure out what's wrong? Maybe it's something you can take medicine for –"

 

"Yeah, crazy-pills." Kurt stood up from the table, taking his plate with him.

 

"They're not –"

 

"I'm not going to the doctor, Blaine. There's nothing wrong with me."

 

"Kurt, please –"

 

"We are not talking about this anymore," Kurt said with an air of finality.

 

"But Kurt –"

 

"We're _done_ , Blaine."

 

Blaine let his head fall to the tabletop as Kurt clanged around in the kitchen, scraping the potatoes into the trashcan and washing his plate in the sink. _Please don't disappear_ , he silently begged. _Please, please, please stay with me._

*** * ***

**Tuesday, August 29 th, 2023**

"So, it's almost September," Kurt said as he rifled through his closet, looking for something to wear to work. Half of his wardrobe was out – a lot of it hung too loosely, some of his pants wouldn't even stay put on his hips anymore.

 

"Mmm," Blaine agreed, only half awake.

 

Kurt plucked out a pair of jeans, a Marc by Marc Jacobs t-shirt and a black vest, tossing them on the bed. "You remember what we do in September, right?" Blaine didn't say anything. " _Blaine_."

 

"What?" he asked, snapping to attention.

 

"Were you even listening?"

 

"…No," Blaine said, a little sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I was in that halfway between place, where you're not really sleeping, but you're not really awake, you know?"

 

Kurt did know. He knew all too well, because if he got any rest at all anymore, it was done precisely in the place that Blaine just described.

 

"It's fine. But now that you're awake – it's almost September, so we need to sort through our summer stuff and start getting out some of our fall pieces. Will you start a pile of your things you want to donate sometime today?"

 

Blaine hesitated. "I'll try …"

 

"You'll try?" Kurt repeated.

 

"Yeah, I just – I don't have a lot of energy, lately. And there are lots of clothes."

 

"And you have lots of time. And you take lots of naps," Kurt said, trying to remain patient. He knew he'd been snapping at Blaine a lot – but, he reasoned, Blaine had been snapping at _him_ a lot as well – and he didn't want another fight before work.

 

"Okay – please don't get mad at me when I say this," Blaine said, "but I'm just having a hard time seeing the point."

 

"The point?"

 

"Well, yeah –"

 

Kurt stared at him, incredulous. "Blaine, do you seriously have that little personal regard for yourself? I mean, I know you've got a small furry woodland creature that has quills like a porcupine growing on your face right now, and you wear pajamas most of the time, but – you could at least get out your _fall_ pajamas, right?"

 

"Does it really matter that much?" 

 

"Blaine, of course it matters," Kurt said, feeling like he was explaining something to a child. "It matters because it's what we do every year. It's a seasonal tradition. It brings order and organization to our lives –"

 

Blaine laughed out loud. "Order? You think switching some clothes around in our closet is going to bring _order_ to our lives?"

 

"Well _something_ needs to bring some order around here, because I feel like we're living in chaos right now. No thanks to you." That last phrase slipped out before he could catch himself, and he took a breath, shoring himself up for the inevitable fight.

 

"Here we go again," Blaine sighed. "I don't do anything around here. I'm lazy. You pull all the weight. I _know_ , Kurt, you tell me _all the time._ But have you ever thought that I don't do anything anymore because I'm _sad_?"

 

"You're _sad_? Seriously, Blaine?"

 

"I am – I don't know what else you expect –"

 

" _I'm sad, too_!" Kurt cried, throwing his hands up in frustration. "You aren't the only one here whose heart was broken when they took her, you know. I wanted a child just as much as you did. In fact, it was _my_ idea in the first place, to have a baby. So if you think for one second that –"

 

"Please stop," Blaine said. "Please don't talk about her."

 

Kurt laughed. "Do you actually think that not talking about her is going to make her go _away_?"

 

Blaine looked down, playing with a string on their duvet cover. "She nevergoes away," he said softly. "She _never_ does. That's what you don't understand!" His voice grew louder, his eyes wilder. "She's here, constantly, breaking me in every possible way. I can't get away from her. Talking about her – Kurt, it makes me feel like I'm cracking open from the inside out. I – please. _Please_ , the only time I feel like I'm even remotely whole is when I'm sleeping. I'm sorry, I just …" He trailed off and sank back onto his pillow, looking completely exhausted.

 

Kurt turned around to face the wall, his hands planted firmly on his hips as he tried not to cry. He never meant for the conversation to turn in this direction. He only wanted to talk about something normal for a change. But he should've learned by now – all roads eventually led back to Violet. He sighed, letting his robe slide down his arms and hanging it on a chair, and pulled on his jeans.

 

"Kurt –" Within seconds, Kurt could feel Blaine's presence behind him, his fingers ghosting over Kurt's shoulder blades. "You look like you have wings."

 

"I know," he said sadly, turning around and pulling his t-shirt over his head. "A fallen angel."

 

"Like in that Meg Ryan movie? _City of Angels_?" Blaine asked softly.

 

"Something like that."

 

Blaine smiled sadly. "If you're a fallen angel on earth, I must be drowning somewhere in the pits of hell …"

 

Kurt brushed his fingers over Blaine's scraggly beard. "I don't believe in hell."

 

"Well thank god for that," he whispered.

 

For a moment, Kurt thought Blaine was going to kiss him, and almost wished he would, but the moment passed and he pulled away.

 

"I've got to go to work now," Kurt said, reaching around Blaine to grab his vest.

 

"Okay. I'll try to get to those clothes today."

 

Kurt sighed. "You know – don't worry about it. I'll do it later."

 

"No, really, you're right. It's not fair that you're doing everything and I'm doing nothing."

 

"Blaine, it's fine," Kurt said, grabbing a pair of boots out of the closet. "Just read a book or something. I didn't mean to upset you."

 

Blaine frowned. "I guess I'm pretty easy to upset lately."

 

"Well, that makes two of us. Try and have a good day, okay?"

 

"I'll try," Blaine said.

 

Kurt turned to leave, feeling like he was walking uphill the way his heart was pulling him back toward his husband.

 

"Kurt? Will you stay?"

 

Kurt felt suddenly brittle, like he might crack in half at any moment. "No, honey, I can't – I've got so much work to do." He walked back into the bedroom and tugged on Blaine's hand, directing him to sit on the bed with him. "But I love you. Even when I'm prickly. Even when it's hard."

 

Blaine smiled, leaning his head on Kurt's shoulder. "I think _I'm_ the one who's prickly around here, actually."

 

"So true. Are you ever gonna shave that monster off your face?"

 

"I've got brunch with Rachel on Friday. I'll shave before then," Blaine said. "If I didn't, she'd probably try to do it herself, and we all know how that would turn out."

 

"Disaster," Kurt said, shaking his head. "Okay, I really do have to go now." He kissed the top of Blaine's head. "I love you."

 

"I love you too, Kurt."

 

They embraced in a tight, lingering hug, and Kurt teared up as he tucked his chin into Blaine’s shoulder. It had been too long since they’d done this, just held each other, and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until he was folded in Blaine’s arms again.

 

After a while he unfolded himself, his heart beating out a loud _don't go, don't go, don't go_ , and kissed Blaine's hair.

 

"Kurt, please –"

 

"I'll leave early, honey," he said, his voice coming out rawer than he meant it to. He blinked quickly as he left the building and the world felt gray in spite of the sun as a soft voice in the back of his head kept asking him why he didn't just stay.

 

He grabbed his cell and tapped a message into it.

 

**To: Rachel**

**Thanks for going out with Blaine Friday morning – but be gentle with him. He's a little fragile right now.**

 

* * *

 

**Friday, September 1 st, 2023**

After a week of treading lightly, of plenty of niceties with no intimacy behind them, Friday dawned rainy and grim.

It took Blaine a full thirty minutes to shave his face clean again.

 

It took Kurt a full thirty minutes to eat a bowl of cereal.

 

After all the whiskers were vacuumed away and the cereal bowl was washed and dried, Kurt lounged on the couch, feigning the beginnings of a cold. Blaine fussed over him, asking if he wanted him to stay, and Kurt, of course, said no.

 

As soon as he'd ushered Blaine out the door with the promise that yes, he'd drink tea with lemon and honey, and yes, he'd eat lunch, Kurt vaulted into action. He had a plan, and only a few hours in which to accomplish it.

 

With only a moment's hesitation, and a deep breath along with it, Kurt opened the door to the nursery and got to work.

 

* * *

 

"You know, Rach, I'm really enjoying these breakfasts with you," Blaine said, smiling at her as they waited for the trains that would take them their separate ways. "You give me a reason to look human again." _In more ways that you'll ever realize_ , he thought to himself.

 

"Well thank god for that," she said with a little laugh. "I do like your ensemble today – did Kurt pick it out?"

 

Blaine looked down at his outfit – cuffed jeans with red and brown Fluevogs on his feet, a brown gingham shirt with the sleeves rolled up his arms, a rusty red bow tie. "No, actually – I did."

 

"Well, good for you! But just know, my salon and my Barneys personal shopper are both still on standby if you ever get a little crazy …"

 

"I'll keep that in mind," Blaine said with a forced laugh, thinking of the amount of hair that filled their small bathroom trashcan that morning. "Oh, here's my train – gotta run." He gave her a quick hug, then boarded the subway train that would take him home to Kurt.

 

He was a little worried – this bout of sickness, in Kurt's fragile condition, could easily turn into something much worse, and Blaine wanted to avoid a hospitalization at all costs. But it hadn't taken much – if any, actually – convincing to get Kurt to stay at home, and he promised that he'd take the day to rest and recuperate.

 

And after a good breakfast with a good friend, feeling more like himself than ever, Blaine felt optimistic about his day for the first time in a very long while.

 

"Kurt? I'm home!" he called, opening the door. "How are you feeling?"

 

As he set his keys on the table, he heard a little creak, and felt his heart drop all the way down to his shoes as Violet's nursery door opened. He half-expected to see a little dark-headed baby crawl from the doorway. But it was Kurt's head, instead, that appeared there a split second later.

 

"What are you doing in there?" Blaine asked, trying to gather himself, reeling a little from the shock of her door being open. "I thought you were going to rest today."

 

"I felt better. I had a sudden burst of energy and productivity," Kurt explained. "I think – I hope this will help us. I know it will help me."

 

Blaine's eyes narrowed as a sense of unease washed over him. "Kurt. What did you do?"

 

"I – I need office space, Blaine. Fashion Week is coming up and my desk just isn't big enough – you've seen the papers everywhere. And it was getting toxic for us, walking past her room, knowing she wasn't in it, knowing her crib was empty. I knew you wouldn't – couldn't – do it. So I –"

 

The optimism that had sent a glimmer of hope into Blaine's morning was long gone. "Kurt – what did you _do_?" he repeated, pushing past him into Violet's room.

 

Once he'd entered, Blaine's arms dropped to his sides and held his breath for a moment.

 

Violet's crib was in pieces, neatly stacked beside the box it came in, and her bedding was crisply folded into a bag beside it. All the pictures had been taken off the walls. Her closet, once bursting with clothes and toys and her bouncy-seat, was empty, and her books and bookcase were nowhere to be found. In their place, lining the wall, sat boxes and bags, all labeled in Kurt's neat script. The only thing that remained was the lavender glider, now looking lonely and out-of-place in the corner.

 

"No," Blaine whispered. "You – no."

 

"It will be good for us. I really think it'll help us move on," Kurt said optimistically. "I feel better already."

 

"You feel – you feel _better,_ Kurt? You think this will help us _move on_?" He sank to the floor, his knees bent awkwardly underneath him, and threaded his fingers in his hair. _She's gone. She's gone, she's gone, she's gone –_

" _I don't want to move on_!" he shouted.

 

Kurt jumped, and Blaine took a deep breath, trying to keep the room from spinning.

 

"I don't know _how_ to move on – you – I can't believe this. I can't _believe_ this, Kurt – they took her away, and you just packed up everything we have left of her and – what were you going to do with it? Put it on the fucking street for some psycho to just come and take?"

 

"Blaine – of course not," Kurt said softly, as if his feelings were hurt. As if _his_ feelings were hurt, god, Blaine wanted to scoff at him – how _dare_ he act hurt about this. "I was planning on putting most of it in storage, and selling the other stuff at consignment shops. And I didn't pack up _everything._ I left us this – like a memory box, see?" He carefully extended a large maple-wood box, stained dark and tied with a lavender ribbon, toward Blaine's hands.

 

Blaine opened it, swallowing hard. Inside were things he hadn't seen since June – the hat that Violet wore home from the hospital, the last book they'd read her before she was taken away. The baby booties that Carole had taken a month to learn to crochet. A framed 4x6 picture of Blaine sleeping with Violet on his chest, her head tucked under his chin. The CD of lullabies they'd recorded for her.

 

He carefully closed the lid and set the box on the ground.

 

Then he felt himself explode.

 

"How the _hell_ could you do this without telling me, you asshole?" he thundered. "What the _hell_ kind of _fairy tale_ are you living in that you didn't realize that this is the worst thing you could have ever done to me? What is the one thing I've said during this whole time, Kurt? What's the _one fucking thing_?"

 

Kurt's eyes grew wider and more watery with each passing second. "I don't know, Blaine," he whispered.

 

"Do _not touch her shit,_ _Kurt_!" he yelled. "One thing. I asked _one thing_ , and you couldn't even do that. She's _gone_. You just made my _baby_ disappear –" Suddenly he was crying hard, hot, fat tears streaming down his cheeks, loud, choking sobs wracking his body. "I can't believe you would do this to me."

 

"Blaine, she's been gone," Kurt said, his voice shaky. "She's never coming back. And – I saved what I thought was important – I was trying to help both of us –"

 

" _How is this helping_?" Blaine gestured angrily to himself. "Does it _look_ like you're helping me right now?"

 

Kurt didn't answer, but Blaine thought he could see a hint of fear in his husband's eyes.

 

He threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Oh, great, and now _I'm_ the bad guy because I'm upset. Stop looking at me like I'm a fucking _monster_ , Kurt! This is your fault. _Your fault!_ " he thundered, and he was shocked to see Kurt nearly cower under his accusing finger, pointing straight at him. "God, I wish you'd never wanted a fucking baby in the first place –"

 

Kurt's hand flew to cover his mouth as he let out a sob.

 

"This is your fault," Blaine repeated angrily. He looked once again around the room, feeling like Kurt had just disassembled his entire life right along with Violet's nursery. Pieces of his heart were scattered along with the pieces of her crib, packed into bags and boxes, ready to be sold to the highest bidder.

 

Suddenly, all his anger dissipated, and he felt hollow. Empty. Like his insides had all been carved out with a dull spoon.

 

"I can't stay here," he said in a flat voice, walking out of the room, back to the couch where it was safe.

 

"You don't have to – we can close the door, Blaine. I'm sorry, I didn't realize –"

 

"No, I mean I can't stay _here_ ," Blaine said, gesturing to their entire home. "With you."

 

"What?" Kurt gasped.

 

Blaine didn't reply. He stood and stared out their living room windows, wondering how on earth they'd gotten to this point.

 

"Blaine, you can't be serious –"

 

"As a heart attack," he said, and walked to their hall closet, where the suitcases were stored.

 

Kurt panicked.

 

"No. Blaine, wait, that was the deal – no matter what happens, we do it together, we handle it _together_ –"

 

"That was before you did this," Blaine said, pulling his suitcase from the top shelf and shutting Kurt out completely.

 

Kurt followed him to the bedroom where he packed in silence, ignoring Kurt's increasingly frantic pleas to stay. All he could see was the photo of himself and Violet, asleep on the couch together, and he felt like he was going out of his mind with grief all over again.

 

He walked around, wildly throwing clothes and toiletries in his bag, and suddenly he was staring down at the bottle of shampoo in his hand. It was the lavender-scented stuff that Kurt used to love to borrow, that smelled almost like the baby lotion they'd rubbed on Violet's soft skin after her nightly baths. The bottle they hadn't touched since the day after Violet was taken. He fell into a sort of trance, his mind flashing back to the day she left.

 

_Blaine was still fuming about how his father-in-law wanted to send their baby away with nothing but the sleeper she was wearing when he met Kurt in the bathroom._

_"Part of me wants to keep it," Kurt said, holding up the lavender baby wash and lotion, "so we can remember how she smells." He hung his head as a single sob escaped his throat, and Blaine rushed toward him. He took the bottles from Kurt's hands and held him, his fingers threaded through the short hair on the back of Kurt's head._

_"Shh, shh," he crooned in his husband's ear. "What if we wash our hair with this every day? We'll never forget her that way."_

_Kurt nodded, his face buried in Blaine's shoulder._

He flashed forward a day.

 

_Late in the afternoon, Blaine had finally gotten around to showering. He was standing under the stream of water, almost scalding he'd turned it up so high, when he remembered what he'd said to Kurt the day before. He carefully took the bottle of shampoo from their shower caddy, squeezed a dollop into his palm, and began lathering his hair._

_It was the worst idea he'd ever had. Within seconds, his mind was flooded with pictures of the last five days, Violet screaming through her bath, then looking up at them with big eyes finally calming as they washed her hair. Their baby wrapped in a towel, all pink and warm and soft. Singing the rubber ducky song. Rubbing lotion on her arms and legs in the morning before they got her dressed._

_He stuck his head under the hot water and washed the shampoo out, crying as it stung his eyes and his heart together, then washed his hair with Kurt's shampoo a second time. He sank against the shower wall, the cool tiles making him shiver against the heat of the water, and let himself cry. He never, ever wanted to smell lavender again._

 

Blaine was swaying, caught in his own personal hell, when he felt Kurt's hand firm on his wrist, and suddenly his senses all came back into focus at once.

 

"Please, Blaine," Kurt begged, looking into his eyes. "Please, let's talk about this – I'll put everything back, I'll put her crib back together. I just – I can't lose you, too. Please. _Please_. I'm sorry."

 

"I have to go." The words, bitter in his mouth, suddenly rang clear as day in Blaine's heart and mind. "I have to go," he repeated, his voice stronger. To go meant freedom – from the building tension with Kurt, from the nursery, which haunted him whether put together or taken apart, maybe even from himself.

 

It was the first thing that had made sense to him since Violet had gone away.

 

"Kurt, I'm going."

 

It was the finality of his words, the conviction of his tone that made Kurt break in front of him, and it was almost enough to convince him to stay. What little wholeness he had left was shattered as Kurt sat back on the floor and sobbed, loudly and openly, as he zipped his suitcase and rolled it toward the door.

 

"I still love you, just as much," he said, his voice wavering. "But I have to go."

 

He felt like he was walking against gravity as he dragged his suitcase behind him, Kurt's cries pulling against him with every step. Tears stung his eyes as he firmly shut the door, and he pulled out his cell to leave a message on Nick's voicemail.

 

"Hey, Nick? You know that spare key you left under the mat? I hope you don't mind, but I'm about to use it. I'll be at your place when you get home. I just – I've got to get out, and I don't have anywhere else to go."


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kurt absolutely does not have the slightest idea of how to handle life without Blaine, Blaine absolutely does not have the slightest idea of how to handle life without Violet, and their friends absolutely do not have the slightest idea of how to handle them without each other.

**Chapter 20**

 

**Friday, September 1 st, 2023**

Kurt was still sitting in the bedroom, leaning against the bed and crying uncontrollably when he heard Blaine's suitcase bump over the threshold and the door shut with a determined click. The sound turned his stomach, and he managed to crawl into the bathroom before heaving his small breakfast up onto the tile floor, crying and cursing and gasping for breath.

 

He made himself toss a towel over the little puddle of sick, afraid Romeo would try to lick it up, before dragging himself back to the bed, yanking the covers over him as he hugged Blaine's pillow close to his chest.

 

It was his worst nightmare, Blaine leaving him. He could handle most everything flung his way as long as Blaine was there to bear it with him, rejections and changes in direction and his dad's second heart attack and even their failed adoption. But this? This was the one thing he couldn't bear, the thing he'd always feared he'd never be able to come back from.

 

His eye caught the wedding picture hung above their dresser, a black and white of them at their wedding reception, printed on canvas. Kurt could remember the moment like it was yesterday – he'd been talking to his dad when Blaine had come up behind him, threw his arms around Kurt's waist, and placed a big, wet, smacking kiss on his cheek. Kurt remembered smiling so hard he felt his face would split in half, he was so _happy_.

 

He stared at the picture and clung to Blaine's pillow, crying until his tears had dried out and his body was racked with dry, heaving sobs. When Blaine walked out the door, he took everything – Kurt's heart, his happiness, and his strength to keep carrying on.

 

" _I give up_ ," he whispered softly into the pillow. " _I'm done fighting._ "

 

* * *

 

Blaine had been sitting on Nick's couch in the dark for half an hour, his suitcase a small sentinel standing guard next to him. Barely even blinking, he stared straight ahead at the wall in front of him. His mind was blank, his limbs were lead, his heart was – what? Ice? Stone?Had Kurt left him with any heart left at all?

 

 _This is what it feels like to give up_.

 

"Blaine, what happened?"

 

He jumped like he'd been shot as Nick banged open the door and rushed in, dropping his messenger bag on the table and coming to sit close to him on the couch.

 

"I –" Blaine stammered. He'd forgotten how to speak. "I didn't mean for you to come home early. You just got this job – if you get fired because of me –"

 

"What did you think, that I was just going to ignore a call like _that_? What's going on, man?"

 

Blaine looked down at his hands, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. "I left." He could hardly believe the words after he'd said them out loud.

 

Nick peered at him. "You left … Kurt? Like, at your house?"

 

He nodded. "I –" His voice broke, and he rubbed his hand over his forehead. "Can I stay with you for a while?"

 

"Of course you can stay," Nick said, slinging an arm around Blaine's shoulders. "What the hell happened to make you leave?"

 

He shook his head. To repeat what happened would feel like a betrayal, even though Blaine knew that Nick wouldn't hate Kurt for taking apart Violet's nursery like he did. In fact, Blaine figured that he was probably the only person on earth to ever get as upset as he did by a broken-down crib. Which was another reason that he didn't feel like talking about it – Nick wouldn't ever understand.

 

"Okay," Nick finally said, apparently accepting Blaine's silence for the moment. "Do you care if I turn some lights on?"

 

Blaine shrugged.

 

Nick moved to get up, then stopped and sat back down. "You really left him. Like, you _left him-_ left him?"

 

"No." He paused. "I don't know. Why?"

 

"It's just – I don't know, if you and Kurt can't make it, the rest of us are doomed, aren't we?"

 

Blaine rested his cheek on his hand as his strong front crumbled and his face contorted into what had to be an ugly expression. "Do you really think we aren't going to make it?" he asked miserably.

 

"I don't know, man. I don't know _what's_ going on. Maybe if you'd just talk to me –"

 

"He cleaned out her nursery," Blaine blurted out, barely holding the floodgates at bay. "He packed up everything – he just left one box, and then he made me _look_ at it, and –" He leaned forward, burying his head in between his knees.

 

Nick's hand was warm on his back. "And you couldn't stay," Nick said, his voice soft and understanding. "He really hurt you, and you're really mad."

 

Blaine nodded. "But I think – Nick, I think I broke his heart," he said, his voice breaking again. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, then took a breath. "Sorry. I'm kind of a mess."

 

"No apologies necessary," Nick assured him. "You want me to stay, or you want to be by yourself?"

 

Blaine shrugged again. "You’ve got work. And I don't think I'll be very good company right now, anyway. This whole moping in the dark thing …"

 

Nick sighed and sat on the coffee table, facing Blaine. "Listen, seriously. I can stay with you, if you need me to. Or if you need me to go, I'll go. Just tell me what would be best for you."

 

He breathed a sigh of what felt like relief – even after all those years, Nick hadn't forgotten how to read between the lines of his bullshit. "I –" he started, then looked at Nick, feeling very small. "Stay, please?"

 

Nick nodded, and surprised Blaine as he pulled him up off the couch into a tight hug. "It's gonna be okay, man," he murmured close to Blaine's ear. "Now," he said, pulling back, "I got this new book a couple weeks ago – you'd love it; it's _beautiful_ the way it's written. You've got to read it. Want me to go get it?"

 

Blaine had no desire to read any sort of book, good or no, but he'd just barged into Nick's apartment with a full suitcase and no warning, and he felt an intense need to be polite. "Sure."

 

Nick turned to walk toward his bedroom, but Blaine caught his arm before he could. "Hey," he said. "Thank you."

 

This time Nick shrugged. "Don't worry about it. This is what friends do, right? You can stay as long as you need to. It'll be nice to have a roommate."

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, September 2 nd, 2023**

Kurt slept fitfully without Blaine in the bed with him. He dreamed of Violet crying loudly in her crib, surrounded by four tall, impenetrable glass walls. No matter what he hacked at them with, no matter how many times he tried to scale the walls, he couldn't get to her. He woke himself up thrashing in the bed, only to drift back into a nightmare about Blaine leaving him again.

 

When morning finally came, bringing skies as stormy as his roiling emotions, he felt worse than he did before he went to sleep.

 

He didn't even try to eat breakfast, flopping on the couch after he'd fed Romeo. He stared at his desk, still scattered with sketches and papers, but couldn't bring himself to get up and do anything with them. He tried to read for a while, but every book he picked up made him think of Blaine on bright Sunday mornings, warm and sleepy in the sun with a book in hand.

 

Finally, after nearly breaking his cell phone several times out of nerves and frustration, he called Blaine, not really expecting him to answer.

 

Much to his surprise, he did.

 

"Kurt?"

 

Blaine sounded as bad as Kurt felt.

 

"Hi." He tried to keep the quaver from his voice, and he thought he was doing a halfway decent job so far. One syllable at a time.

 

"I don't really know what –" Blaine started, but Kurt cut him off.

 

"Do you want a divorce?" he asked, shocking himself with his bluntness.

 

"I –"

 

"Because if you do," Kurt said, covering his face with his free hand, "can we be civilized about it, and not drag it out? I don't think I can handle another –"

 

"Kurt, I don't want a divorce," Blaine said softly, interrupting him.

 

"Oh." Kurt stared at the ceiling. "Then why did you leave?"

 

"Because I had to. Because I'm mad. Because – because."

 

"Because-because? You pack a bag and leave me and make me think you're not coming back and all I get is because- _because_ , Blaine?"

 

"I – yes. I think – there are things I need to sort out. With me. I don't know how long – I'm coming back. I really am. I just don't know when."

 

Kurt bit his lip as the room began to swim with the tears filling his eyes anew.

 

"Where are you?"

 

"Nick's," Blaine said.

 

Kurt paused for a long time, trying to steel himself for what he was about to say. "You know, maybe it's better this way."

 

"What's better?" Blaine asked.

 

"Being apart. We – I – it'll give me some space, and –"

 

"Space?"

 

"Yes."

 

Blaine was quiet on the other end of the line. "Right. Well. I guess that's settled, then."

 

"I guess it is."

 

"Good," Blaine said, sounding miserable, and Kurt's heart broke anew. "I – I'll call and check on you. In a while. Or sometime."

 

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. Was this what it felt like to break up with someone? No wonder Rachel always cried so hard. "Right. Just – leave a message if I'm working or something."

 

"Yeah, no problem." The line was quiet for several moments. "Well, um, I guess I'll just talk to you later, then."

 

"Yeah."

 

"Okay. Bye, Kurt," Blaine said, and Kurt thought he could hear the slightest hint of tears in Blaine's voice.

 

"Bye." Kurt lay back against a throw pillow and whistled for Romeo. The puppy jumped up onto the couch with him and licked his face, and Kurt began to cry. He wasn't sure if which side of his heart they were coming from – half of it was so relieved that divorce papers weren't going to end up in his mailbox he could _squeal_ , the other half ground to hamburger meat because _Blaine is gone oh god oh god_.

*** * ***

**Monday, September 4 th, 2023**

"Blaine?"

 

"Mmmph," he grumbled, pulling his blanket over his head.

 

"Blaine, hey – it's Nick," the gentle voice repeated, withdrawing the blanket slowly.

 

He blinked his eyes open, squinting at the sun streaming through the cracks in the curtains his friend had drawn the night before.

 

"Oh, hi," he said, propping up on an elbow, rubbing the back of his hand across his face.

 

"Are you sure you'll be okay today while I'm gone?" Nick asked, a concerned look clouding his eyes.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm golden," Blaine said with a huge yawn. It had been a very long weekend, in which he'd spent every waking moment moping on the couch, and Nick had spent every waking moment trying to get him _off_ the couch. Nick's efforts had been futile, but now Blaine wondered if he should have tried a little harder for his friend's sake. He didn't want Nick worrying about him all day.

 

"There's leftover pizza in the fridge if you get hungry, and if you need anything –"

 

"Look, I'll be fine," Blaine repeated. "I'm not letting you lose your new job because of me. You've already left early once."

 

"Still – my work number is on the fridge, if you can't catch me on my cell."

 

"Thanks, man. I –" There weren't words to say how much it meant that he had a safe place to go, that Nick _cared_ , _saw_ him … " _Thank_ you."

 

Nick patted his shoulder and hurried out the door, his messenger bag swinging at his hip. It made Blaine think of Kurt, and a sharp pain shot through his chest. Was he doing the right thing? And if he _was_ doing the right thing, why did it feel like his heart was breaking inside his chest?

 

But he couldn't go back home, not with all his dreams lying broken on their floor with Violet's disassembled crib. Before, even when he knew she wasn't coming back, the nursery felt like his safety net. It was the one untouched thing that held his heart together, the one place that felt like _Violet_ ,even though he couldn't stand to be in the room when she wasn't. But now, even if Kurt put it back together, put all her clothes back in her closet, it was tainted, ruined. The crib sheet would no longer have that tiny spot of spit-up from the night before they lost her. The changing table wouldn't have a fresh diaper sitting on top of it, waiting to be used. There would be no point in keeping Violet's Sleep Sheep in the crib, because there was no baby to soothe.

 

Kurt had effectively removed all evidence that there was ever actually a baby in their house, and part of Blaine wanted to hate him for it.

 

Shaking his head, Blaine stretched out on the couch and opened Nick's Netflix account. He scrolled through, looking for movies with action, explosions, sex, gore, a social agenda, subtitles – but absolutely no children.

 

* * *

 

**Tuesday, September 5 th, 2023**

"What in the hell …"

 

" _Kurt!_ "

 

"Oh my god."

 

Kurt walked into the Marc Jacobs studio to the tune of whispers and gasps, his chin tucked down to his chest and his portfolio held close to his chest. He wore an old pair of jeans, a tattered pair of Converse sneakers harkening back to his Glee Club days, and Blaine's Dalton hoodie. And, perhaps most shocking of all, his hair, product-free and messy, fell limply into his downcast eyes.

 

Normally impervious to everyone's thoughts and opinions but Blaine's and sometimes Rachel's, he was too exhausted and too heartbroken to care about looking haughty. He felt every eye in the room on him, and he wanted more than anything to disappear.

 

"Is Marc here yet?" he mumbled to Tori, who'd rushed over, a frown wrinkling her forehead.

 

"He's in his office – Kurt, are you alright?"

 

"Yeah, I'm fantastic," he snapped. "Can't you tell?"

 

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed. "Come on," she said, taking his hand and dragging him toward Marc's office and away from all the peering eyes.

 

"Marc?" Tori called as she knocked on the door. "Kurt needs to see you."

 

"Kurt!" he called. "Come in – I noticed you weren't here yesterday –" He cut himself off as Kurt walked in. "Oh, my. Have a seat."

 

Kurt plopped into the chair across from the large desk, sliding the portfolio to Marc. "I brought you my sketches and the list of all the models' measurements and what they're wearing. I'm sorry. I – I'm not sure if I'll be able to do Fashion Week after all …" He couldn't believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. But he could barely believe the words that had come out of Blaine's on Saturday, either. Maybe he'd been transported to an alternate universe. Maybe none of this was real. Maybe he was in the middle of a very long nightmare. Maybe –

 

"We'll be fine at Fashion Week, Kurt," Marc said, interrupting his thoughts. "All I'm concerned about right now is you. What happened?"

 

"I don't want to talk about it," Kurt said, blinking rapidly.

 

"Is it your father?"

 

Kurt shook his head silently.

 

"Is it Blaine?"

 

He looked at the floor.

 

"Alright," Marc said, nodding. "Is there someone I can call for you?"

 

Kurt shrugged.

 

"What about Rachel Berry? She introduced herself one day, and I know she's come to bring you lunch several times."

 

Kurt wordlessly fished his phone out of his back pocket and handed it over to his boss. "Call whoever you want," he said, his tone flat.

 

Marc scrolled through his contact list. "I'm going to put her on speakerphone," he said as Rachel's phone began to ring, "so you can hear everything we're saying, okay? I don't want you to feel like I'm going behind your back."

 

Kurt shrugged his shoulders again as Rachel answered. He could have cared less who Marc called and what he said. He just wanted to crawl back into his bed and never come out again.

 

"Kurt!" Rachel's voice lilted through the phone speakers. "Oh my god, I'm so glad you're calling – you will not _believe_ what happened at the show last night –"

 

"Rachel? Hi, this is actually Marc Jacobs speaking. I believe we've met a few times."

 

"Marc – oh. _Oh_. Well. Hello, Mr. Jacobs." She paused. "Um –"

 

"I need you to come to the studio, please."

 

"Is Kurt there? Is he alright? Did he pass out or something?" she asked, her voice growing higher and more frantic with each question.

 

Marc sighed. "I think something happened with Blaine. He – he isn't quite himself. I think he needs to go home …"

 

Kurt stared at his lap as they talked, wondering when the tears would start up again, wondering if he had any tears left. He'd never felt so apathetic, so dead inside, not when he was being harassed and assaulted at McKinley, not when his dad was lying unresponsive in a hospital bed. He wore his anger and defiance like a shield at McKinley, and at Lima Memorial he clung to every shred of hope he could wrap his fingers around. But this was different. This felt like every good thing in his life – and oh, how good it had been for five short days – had been ripped from his hands, leaving him with shards for a heart and a shell for a body.

 

Marc must've finished talking with Rachel, because suddenly he was talking to Kurt, his eyes full of concern. "She's on her way, in case you didn't hear that last part. I'm sorry if you feel undermined, but I don't think you need to be alone."

 

Kurt nodded, but what Marc didn't understand was that this brand of emptiness wasn't going to go away just because Rachel was there.  

 

"Have you talked to her? Does she know what's going on?" Marc asked.

 

Kurt shook his head.

 

"I have to say, Kurt – in all the years you've worked for me, I've never seen you like this. I wish you'd tell me what happened."

 

Kurt pulled the sleeves of the over-sized hoodie over his hands and buried his face in the soft material. It still smelled faintly of Blaine, and he inhaled deeply, letting the scent momentarily knit him together before he fell apart again.

 

"Okay," Marc said softly as Kurt began to cry. He came around to the other side of his desk to sit in the chair next to Kurt. "Alright, it's okay," he soothed, rubbing Kurt's back.

 

Kurt shook his head vehemently into the cotton – there were a lot of things this was, but okay was absolutely not one of them.

 

"I want you to take off all the time you need," Marc said, close to Kurt's ear. "I don't want you to even think about us here, unless you need us. Just get better, so you can come back to us, okay?"

 

Kurt sniffled into his sleeves, still not speaking, but he couldn't help but wonder – get better from _what_ , exactly? He wasn't sick. There wasn't anything _wrong_ with him. He was just broken, in a way that he'd never been broken before.

 

He sat, letting Marc try to comfort him, until Rachel stormed into Marc's office and immediately gathered him up into a hug. She could so easily be too much, too bright, too loud, too smothering, but at that moment, when he felt so _small,_ she was just enough for both of them.

 

"Come on," she murmured in his ear. "I'm taking you home and getting you into your pj's, and you're going to tell me all about it, okay?"

 

" _Rachel –_ " he croaked, letting his head fall onto her shoulder.

 

" _Shhhh_ ," she whispered, petting his hair. " _Shhhh,_ it's going to be okay. I've got you."

 

* * *

 

An hour later, they were cuddled together under Kurt's covers, and his head was pillowed in Rachel's lap. They could hear Romeo from across the condo, whining at the door. He'd done it half the night, and Kurt had cried even harder when he'd realized that the dog was looking for Blaine.

 

"So he's gone? He just _left_ you?" Rachel asked.

 

Kurt nodded miserably, sniffling.

 

"Do you know where he is?" She ran her fingernails over his product-free scalp, and he was reminded of his mother who used to do the same when he was sick.

 

"At Nick's."

 

"Is he coming back?"

 

"I don't know." Kurt looked out the bedroom door listlessly, aching as Romeo darted into the hall, then back toward the door, as if asking Kurt to come help him look for Blaine. He understood his dog's pain – Blaine had left a gaping hole in their home, turning their lives upside-down. Kurt wanted to go look for him, too. "He says he is. I just don't know when." He sighed heavily. "I don't think I've ever lost it like I'm losing it now."

 

"But you've never loved somebody like you love him, either." she pointed out, then paused. "Not even Violet, right?"

 

Kurt rolled to his back, his head still in Rachel's lap. "I don't think so. I would've, if we'd had her longer. And no doubt, I loved her. But – it's _Blaine_ , Rach."

 

"I know."

 

His face crumbled for what seemed to be the hundredth time since Friday afternoon. "Do you think he's really coming back?"

 

"He said he would, didn't he? And he's always been so loyal to you – I think he will."

 

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face into her stomach. "Why is this happening to me?" he cried as she stroked her fingers down his back. "I don't understand – I was just trying to help –"

 

" _Shhh_ ," Rachel whispered, bending to kiss the top of his head, and then began to sing very softly. " _When you're weary, feelin' small – when tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all…_ "

 

Kurt sobbed even harder, remembering when Mercedes sang that song for him in her church when he was so afraid his dad would leave him an orphan. Rachel rocked him slowly back and forth, singing to him all the while, and he clung to her like she was the only thing keeping him afloat. By the end of the song, she was crying with him.

 

"He'll come back, Kurt," she said confidently when she'd finished singing. "I know he will. You don't just throw away six years of marriage over something like this."

 

"I don't know … you didn't see him. I've never seen him so mad," Kurt said sadly. "I should've asked him, I should've –"

 

"You can't think like that," Rachel said, swiping a tear off his cheek with her thumb. "You can't go back and change things, sweetie. What's done is done. But just wait – he'll miss you so much, he'll be back in no time."

 

"I hope so," Kurt mumbled, hugging around her waist. "Thanks for coming to take care of me."

 

"Well, that's what best friends are for, right?" Kurt nodded as Rachel scooted back against the headboard of the bed. "Want me to stay till he comes back? We can be pretend-roommates, if you want," she said.

 

Kurt sniffled. "You'd do that? But what about the show? It's a longer commute from here, and –"

 

"Details, details," she said with a wave of her hand. "Come on. It'll be like our first year in New York together, only with more walls."

 

"But one less bed," Kurt pointed out.

 

" _Psshhh_ ," Rachel scoffed. "It wouldn't be the first time we slept together, and I'm sure it won't be the last." She placed her hand on his cheek, and he turned to look up at her. Her eyes grew dark and serious. "You're worrying me. It'd make me feel better if I could keep an eye on you. Please, just let me do this for you?"

 

Kurt looked up at the ceiling, thinking of how it might be to not have to face another day alone in an empty home. "Okay," he finally said. "You can stay. But the second you feel put out –"

 

"I'll let you know," Rachel finished for him. "I'm sure it won't be more than a few days, Kurt. But until then – my first order of business is getting you into a shower. How many days has it been?"

 

Kurt flushed. "I'd rather not say," he said, embarrassed. "I didn't exactly have anyone to look nice for, did I?"

 

She smiled sadly. "I remember a time when you didn't need anyone except yourself. Come on, sweetie, time for some tough love. You stink."

 

* * *

 

**Thursday, September 7 th, 2023**

"So, I need to talk with you about something," Nick said as he and Blaine were having dinner.

 

"This sounds ominous …" Blaine said warily.

 

"Oh, no, not really. Jeff just wants to come visit this weekend."

 

"Oh, that's great!"

 

"I know," Nick agreed. "I've really missed him. But …"

 

"Oh," Blaine said as it dawned on him. "I'm on your couch."

 

"Which is great, and I totally don't mind, don't get me wrong," Nick said. "But one of you will have to sleep in the floor, or you'll have to go back to your place, which from what you've said isn't much of an option …"

 

"…Or Jeff will have to stay with Kurt," Blaine finished for him. He chuckled. "This is so weird."

 

"No kidding. So what do you think?"

 

"Well, normally I'd say I'd just sleep on the floor, but I'd actually feel better if somebody was there with Kurt. I hate the thought of him being at home alone."

 

"You should call him tonight and ask," Nick suggested. "You haven't talked to him since Saturday, right?"

 

"No," Blaine admitted. "But I don't think he wants to talk to me. _I_ wouldn't want to talk to me …"

 

"You won't really know until you try though, will you?" Blaine arched an eyebrow, and Nick sighed. "I'm just saying, man," he said, "if this isn't a real split, and if you still want to be together when all this is done – you should talk to him. Or try, at least."

 

Blaine heaved a heavy sigh, planting his face on the table next to his Chinese takeout container. The wood was cool under his forehead, and it made him shiver. "You're probably right," he mumbled.

 

"Of course I'm right. But – there's one other thing."

 

"What's that?" Blaine asked, turning his head to rest his cheek on the table so he could see Nick's face.

 

Nick propped his chin on his hand. "Jeff mentioned something about all four of us going out, and I didn't have the heart to explain what was going on with you guys. I know it might be awkward –"

 

" _Nick_ ," Blaine groaned, "you _didn't_."

 

"I kind of did. I mean, you can still back out –"

 

Blaine sighed again, dragging himself upright again. "No, I think we can probably manage one night out together. It's not – we're not fighting. I mean, we were, but that's not why I – god, this is complicated."

 

"I'm sorry. This sucks."

 

"Understatement," Blaine said flatly, slurping a lo mein noodle into his mouth.

 

"Do you miss him?" Nick asked.

 

"I don't know." The words felt heavy in Blaine's mouth, like a piece of lead was weighing his tongue down. "I think – I love him. I'll always love him. But I don't know if I miss him yet or not."

 

"You're still mad."

 

"Wouldn't you be?"

 

"I don’t know," Nick answered honestly. "Probably? I have no idea how I'd react to what you've been through. And I also have no idea what it's like to love someone like you and Kurt love each other."

 

"Do you think I'm wrong to be mad?" Blaine asked, twisting his chopsticks through the noodles. For the last week he'd been an emotional roller coaster, his brain or heart or soul or _something_ in him dragging him through the awful cycle of crying-angry-guilty-repeat. He felt a little like he was going crazy. He wondered if Nick thought so, too.

 

"I don't think you're wrong to feel anything that you're feeling. But I also don't think you should shut him out, or things might not work out like either of you want them to."

 

Blaine sighed. "I don't really know how Kurt wants things to work out, to be honest. I said some really awful things to him. I don't know if he'll ever forgive me."

 

"Didn't you tell me that he begged you to stay?" Nick questioned gently. "And he's the one who called you on Saturday, right?"

 

Blaine tugged a hand through his hair. It was true, what Nick said, but if the tables were turned and Kurt was the one who'd left him …

 

But he couldn't think about that, Kurt leaving him. Mostly because he didn't think Kurt would ever be that rash. He was so much better at talking about things than Blaine was; Kurt never buried his feelings until they all exploded on a heavy bag like Blaine did.

 

"Fine, you're right. I'll call him tonight." He paused, chewing on the end of one of his chopsticks. "I hope he's okay. Mad or not, I'm really worried about him – he wasn't doing very well _before_ I left. I bet he's not eating."

 

Nick's eyes grew somber. "Was that why he almost passed out that day you moved me in?"

 

"Yeah." Blaine ran his hand through his hair again. "It's like his body sort of shuts down when he's stressed – he can't eat, and he feels sick all the time. Sometimes he actually throws up. We've been through it before, with exams in school, and when Burt had his second heart attack, but never for this long. He's lost a bunch of weight, and it's starting to scare me."

 

"I bet."

 

"I think it scares him too, more than he'll admit. I think Jeff staying with him is a really good idea."

 

"You know, nobody ever said you can't go over there and check on him," Nick said carefully.

 

"I know it sounds crazy, but I can't. I can't explain it very well, but I just – I don't want to be there right now. I have these nightmares –"

 

"I know. I can hear you at night sometimes."

 

Blaine stopped, stunned. He had no idea that he'd been crying out in his sleep, and it made him feel about five inches tall to know that he'd been keeping Nick up at night. "I'm sorry."

 

"I'm just worried about you," Nick told him. "I – when I say this, I'm not trying to be pushy, but – Blaine, have you ever thought about seeing somebody?"

 

"Seeing somebody?"

 

"Like seeing a counselor? Or therapist? Or whatever?"

 

Blaine blinked at him. "You sound like Kurt during our freshman year."

 

"What happened your freshman year?"

 

"Nothing in particular. Just – it was the first time I was out of the house, away from my parents. I kind of had a lot of baggage from so many years of trying to make them happy."

 

"Did you see somebody then?"

 

"No."

 

"Why not?"

 

"I just – I didn't, Nick. It's complicated. I did fine without it then, and I'm fine now. I'll get over it eventually, okay?" Blaine snapped, throwing his chopsticks into his take-out container. "I think I'll just go call Kurt, okay?"

 

Nick sighed. "Okay. Tell him I said hi."

 

Blaine didn't acknowledge Nick at all before walking out onto his tiny balcony, letting the cool autumn air wash over his face. Nick's words rang too loud as he replayed a conversation with his father in the back of his head.

 

" _Dad – I was thinking, and I thought – if you and Mom didn't mind, of course – I was thinking –"_

_"Let's spit it out, Blaine, come on."_

_"I was thinking about seeing a therapist. When we get back to school, after break."_

_His dad's bespectacled eyes slowly appeared above the top of his newspaper. "You want to see a shrink?"_

_"Well, I was thinking –"_

_"Yeah, you've said that. Why? I thought you had this whole gay thing figured out."_

_"I do – it's not that –"_

_"Blaine, listen to me," his dad said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped between them. "Shrinks are for weak people who can't deal with life themselves. Schizophrenics. Those bipolar crazies. People like that."_

_"But Rachel's been seeing one since –"_

_"Haven't you figured out that 'women' and 'bipolar crazies' are synonymous, son?" Blaine's dad asked with a laugh, sobering when Blaine didn't react. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you've never slept with one before."_

_Blaine glared at him. "That doesn’t mean I don't have female friends. Are you saying that_ mom _is bipolar, too?"_

_His father rolled his eyes. "Of course not, Blaine, I was kidding."_

_"And what if she was? What if she needed to go to therapy?"_

_"Blaine, she isn't. She wouldn't," he said firmly. "And besides all that, shrinks will make you crazy when you're not. They'll analyze things that have no business being analyzed, and they'll want to put you on all sorts of medications that you don't need. You can't trust them."_

_"But Dad –"_

_"Look, are you suicidal?"_

_"No!"_

_"Are you hallucinating? Do you hear voices that aren't there?"_

_"No, but –"_

_"Then you aren't crazy, and you don't need to see a shrink. What on earth would you talk to one about, anyway?"_

_Blaine blinked at his dad. "Nothing," he said after a long pause. "You're right."_

_"Of course I am. Now, I don't want to hear another word about it, are we clear?"_

_"Yes sir."_

He closed his eyes and leaned against the railing, trying to make his father's voice disappear as well. It wasn't working – all the awful things his dad has said still bounced around the inside of his skull, his voice echoing between Blaine's ears. Eventually he gave up trying, and called the only person who could make it go away, the only person whose clear, ringing voice could replace his father's booming baritone.

 

* * *

"Kurt, you have to drink this now," Rachel said, pushing half of a protein shake across the table toward him.

 

"He's not back." Kurt stared listlessly at the door. "It's been six days. He's not coming back, Rach."

 

"He _is_ coming back, and I'm not letting him see you walking around on bird legs when he does," she said, nudging the shake closer to him. "Ribs are not sexy, Kurt. Drink."

 

"I don't think we have to worry about that, since Blaine doesn't seem to care if he ever sees my ribs again," he grumbled, but sipped on the straw anyway.

 

After seeing how much weight he'd really lost, Rachel had made it her mission to push calories and nutrition on him. Too tired and weak to protest, Kurt had done exactly what she'd been telling him, and after three days of better nourishment than he'd had in a long time, he was starting to feel a little bit stronger, if no less heartsick.

 

"Good," she said, sounding satisfied. "Now, are you doing yoga with me in the morning? I really think doing the sun salutation would help –" she started, but was interrupted by Kurt's cell.

 

_Sweet pea, apple of my eye…_

 

Kurt dove for the phone, recognizing the sweet lyrics of Blaine's ringtone from anywhere.

 

"Hello?" he said, trying not to sound too desperate.

 

"Hi, Kurt."

 

Kurt's heart fluttered on hummingbird wings at the sound of his husband's voice. "Hey." He looked up at Rachel. " _It's Blaine!_ " he mouthed emphatically.

 

They paused, and Kurt felt like an idiot. There were so many things he wanted to blurt out – " _I love you,_ " " _I miss you_ ," " _I think I've forgotten how to breathe without you_ ," but he was terrified to say any of it. What if Blaine rejected him again? Where would that leave him?

 

"What've you been doing?" he finally asked.

 

"Nothing," Blaine said simply. "You? How's Fashion Week prep?"

 

"Oh, um …" Kurt trailed off. "I'm taking a little time off."

 

"Oh," Blaine said. "Well … good."

 

"Yeah."

 

A long, awkward silence hung over the phone, making Kurt's skin prickle.

 

"So – I have a favor to ask," Blaine blurted out.

 

 _Anything, if it means you'll come back to me._ "What is it?"

 

"Jeff wants to come visit this weekend, and Nick only has one couch. I was gonna see if you didn't mind him staying with you …"

 

Kurt felt like a ton of bricks had just dropped into his stomach. _Why can't you just come home where you belong?_ he wanted to demand. But clearly that wasn't what Blaine wanted. "Oh, um, sure. Rachel's been staying over here the last couple days, too, if that's okay with him." _Because she's the only thing keeping me going right now_.

 

"Oh, okay." Blaine's voice sounded stilted. "When, uh, when did Rachel start staying over there?"

 

 _When I had a nervous breakdown._ "On Tuesday."

 

"Oh. Um. How is she?"

 

"Helpful. And _here_ ," Kurt said before he could stop himself. He heard Blaine sigh on the other end of the line. "She's good, Blaine – typical Rachel, but I'm glad she's staying with me."

 

"Uh – _why_ is she there?"

 

 _Don’t make me say it_ , Kurt begged silently.

 

"Kurt?"

 

"I –" Kurt bit his lip to keep from crying. "I needed my best friend."

 

"Oh." Blaine sounded a little crestfallen. "Of course. Well, thanks for this weekend. With Jeff."

 

"You're welcome."

 

"Well – I guess I'll let you go. It's starting to get late, and Nick wants to watch the first Giants game of the season …"

 

 _Already?_ Kurt wanted to scream. _You'd rather watch football than talk to me?_ "Okay," he said instead. "Well – I guess I'll see you sometime this weekend? When Jeff is here?"

 

"Oh, yeah, about that – he wanted to do something with all four of us. Would – are you opposed to that idea? I can tell Nick to ask him –"

 

"It's fine, Blaine. I'm not – it's not like I don't want to see you."

 

"Oh." Blaine sounded surprised. "Okay."

 

"Okay," Kurt repeated, gripping the countertop tightly, trying to rein in his voice so Blaine wouldn't hear how thick it was. "I'll see you this weekend, sometime?"

 

"Yeah, sounds good. Night."

 

"Goodnight, Blaine."

 

Tears were threatening to spill from Kurt's eyes as he looked up at Rachel, who was waiting for details expectantly. "I think I need a Julie Andrews marathon."

 

She nodded resolutely. "Sound of Music?" she asked.

 

"No, I think I want to start with Mary Poppins, actually," he said. "Although, be prepared – I'm going to cry through the entire 'Stay Awake' song, for reasons I don't really want to talk about."

 

"Oh, Kurt," she sighed. "It was on your lullaby CD, wasn't it?"

 

He nodded, biting his lip hard, and she took his arm and curled next to him on the couch.

 

"Maybe Blaine was right," he said as the overture for the movie began to play. "Maybe I should never have suggested we have a baby in the first place."

 

* * *

 

**Friday, September 8 th, 2023**

"Go long, go long, go long," Nick chanted as the player he was controlling on his XBOX threw the football and … " _Yes!!_ Go, go, go – come on, Je–" The name faltered on his lips as Blaine, with his mop of dark curls, threw his hands in the air and gave Nick a high-five.

 

"Touchdown!" Blaine exclaimed, and Nick grinned at him, but it didn't feel quite genuine. Apparently Blaine could tell, because a concerned look crossed his face. "What's wrong?"

 

"I didn't mean to almost call you Jeff just then," he said. "I just –"

 

"You miss him, and you're thinking about him, and you can't wait for him to come tomorrow," Blaine said. "I know – it's okay, man. No worries. I'm not judging."

 

Blaine might not have been judging, but Nick sure was. It didn't feel _normal_ , getting as excited as he was about seeing his best friend. Did other guys get insomnia from simply anticipating a flight that wouldn't arrive for another three days? Did they spend hours planning and obsessing over exactly what parts of New York to show their friends when they only had a short time with them? It seemed more like something you'd do for a girlfriend. And Jeff was definitely _not_ his girlfriend.

 

That being said, he missed him more than he'd ever missed Caroline the whole time they dated.

 

"It's just – we played this game together in Chicago all the time, and –"

 

"Nick," Blaine said, setting his game controller down and placing a steady hand on Nick's arm. "Take a deep breath, man. I'm seriously not offended. That was far from the worst thing anyone's ever called me …"

 

"I know," Nick sighed. "I just – I'm getting all antsy. I just want him here."

 

"I know you do. I see you shiver with antici–" Blaine stopped and grinned, looking at Nick expectantly.

 

Nick raised his eyebrows, a little unsure of what he wanted, and Blaine's face fell.

 

"Sorry," he said, casting his eyes down. "In-joke." He coughed out an awkward laugh and rubbed his eyes. " _Jesus,_ this sucks …" he mumbled to himself, then took a deep, steadying breath and looked up at Nick again. "So, you were saying …"

 

"I just – I'm excited to see him. That's all."

 

"Do you think I have a problem with that, Nick? Because I don't. I have a much bigger problem that because my ass is on your couch, I'm screwing up your whole weekend, actually. What's going on with you? You've been friends for years."

 

"I know. I just – I don't know. Let's just forget about it, okay? Start a new game?"

 

Blaine shrugged. "Whatever you say, man. But can we switch to Call of Duty? I kind of feel like shooting things all of a sudden …"


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a night out with Jeff and Nick is fraught with tension, a shocking confession is revealed, and Kurt and Blaine realize how lucky they are to have the friends that they do.

**Chapter 21**

**Saturday, September 9 th, 2023**

_Squeak, squeak,_ went Kurt's rubber glove against his yellow mixing bowl, and he smiled, content at another clean dish. He'd just submerged his covered hands into the soap suds again when a knock came at the door.

 

"I'll get it!" Rachel called from the living room, and he heard her bare feet smack across the floor. "Jeff Warbler!" she squealed, welcoming their guest, and Kurt closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to steel himself for being _companionable_. God, what an exhausting word.

 

"Hey, Rachel," Jeff said with a laugh. "Good to see you. Where's Kurt?"

 

"Oh, he'll be here in a second – he's just finishing up the breakfast dishes," Rachel told him, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief.

 

Rachel had been a dear all morning, coaxing him into coiffing his hair, picking an outfit for him just so he could tell her everything that was wrong with it and choose a better one himself, making breakfast for the both of them and leaving a mess in the kitchen so he'd have something to be preoccupied with until Jeff came.

 

And now she was stalling for him, giving him a few extra minutes to prepare.

 

Rachel could be a lot of things, grating and overbearing and perfectionistic to a fault, but god, he couldn't ever deny that she loved him.

 

Two dishes and several careful swipes of a sponge to the kitchen counter, and Kurt was done. He stood in the clean kitchen, letting its zen soak into his pores, then walked carefully out to where Jeff and Rachel were amicably chatting on the couch.

 

"It's good to see you!" Jeff exclaimed, getting up and tugging Kurt into a tight hug that he wasn't quite prepared for. "God, have you lost –"

 

"Let's talk itinerary!" Rachel piped up before he could say anything else. "How long has it been since you've been to New York?"

 

"Not since Vi–"

 

"Don't answer that!" she exclaimed, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

 

"Look, let's just stop pretending there's not a gigantic elephant in the room already," Kurt said with a weary sigh. He turned to Jeff. "I'm assuming Nick told you what happened, since you're here and not there, and _god_ that's awkward, but … it is what it is, I guess."

 

"Yeah, he, uh, he told me …"

 

"I – I'm not handling it very well, with Blaine being gone. Obviously."

 

"Oh, Kurt …" Rachel sighed, but he shook his head.

 

"And I know it's not fair to you, Jeff, because I know you're here to see Nick, not me. So I don’t want you hanging around here out of some sense of pity or obligation, and I don't need a babysitter, despite what everyone else seems to think."

 

"Kurt, seriously, it's not a big deal, staying here – I _like_ you, so …"

 

"I know. I appreciate that, I do. But I also know you haven't seen Nick yet, so why don't you call him? Maybe you guys go to lunch or something?"

 

Jeff blinked at him. "If you're sure you don't mind …"

 

"I don't. Please, it'll make me feel _better_ , not like some weird sort of invalid."

 

"Okay …" And Jeff pulled out his phone.

 

"Kurt," Rachel said quietly while Jeff was making his phone call, "I've been wondering – just since Jeff will be here this weekend – do you mind if I go home for a couple days? Just while he's here? I'm starting to get behind on laundry, and –"

 

"Go," he said, trying to put all the gratitude in the universe into a single word. "You've done more than I could've ever asked for."

 

"I'll come back Monday, I promise. I just –"

 

"You don't need to explain anything," he said, pulling her into a hug. "Thank you." He kissed the top of her head and pulled back. "I think I'm going to lie down for a while. I'm starting to get a headache."

 

"Take care of yourself," she told him, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "And you have fun this weekend!" she told Jeff. "You and Nick should try to see a show, if you have time! There's a Sunday matinee …"

 

"Maybe next time, Rach," he said. "It's a really short trip – I fly back tomorrow afternoon."

 

Kurt left them in the living room to chat and slunk back to his bed with Romeo at his heels, not wanting either of them to know exactly how exhausted he was. It was just – _people,_ he couldn't handle _people_ and cleaning the kitchen had left him fatigued, in need of a nap. He needed a nap and he needed solitude and he really just needed _Blaine_ but Blaine wasn't coming, not until forced, not to their home, and maybe that was the most exhausting thing of all.

 

He left the door open a crack, and as soon as his light was off and he'd reclined on the bed, his puppy dog in his lap, he dozed off into a restless sleep.

 

* * *

 

"I think I miss him more than I should," Nick said, pacing back and forth across his small living room as he waited for Jeff's arrival that afternoon. His stomach had been in knots all day, and he kept straightening things on his bookshelves and swiping crumbs off the kitchen counter that weren't really there.

 

He'd realized earlier, as he was scrubbing the toilet bowl for the first time in a month, that he'd never cleaned his home in anticipation of a girl's arrival before. _It just means you care what he thinks_ , he'd told himself, scrubbing harder. But he couldn't help but question exactly what that meant as he finished the toilet and moved onto the shower.

 

"Should there be a should there?" Blaine's question pulled him from his thoughts.

 

"Was that a tongue-twister?"

 

"I'm just saying – how much _should_ you miss him?" Blaine asked, setting his book upside-down on the coffee table to mark his place. "You've been best friends for like fifteen years, Nick. You went to college together, and then you moved to Chicago together after you graduated. I think you're allowed to miss the guy. Haven't we had this conversation already?"

 

"It's just – I don't know, it doesn't seem normal," Nick said, leaning against the wall.

 

"Normal?" Blaine laughed. "Of course it's normal. What's normal, anyway? It's overrated."

 

Nick cracked a smile. "I guess you're right," he said. "You're sure you're gonna be okay here by yourself? You can come with us, if you want."

 

Blaine rolled his eyes. "For the hundredth time, Nick, I'm fine. You guys need to catch up –"

 

The buzzer to Nick's apartment cut him off. "Jeff?" Nick said into the intercom. "Is that you?"

 

"Yep! You gonna let me up, or what?"

 

Nick beamed as he pressed the button to let Jeff in, and he waited impatiently by the door until Jeff burst through it. All the air left his lungs as Jeff's arms flew around him, squeezing like a vice, and all the questions and uncertainties he'd been having flew from his mind as he squeezed his best friend back. It came down to the fact, he realized, that wherever Jeff was felt like home. They'd been together for so long that he'd become like a fifth limb, and when Nick moved to New York, he'd effectively cut one of his body parts off.

 

It was phantom pain he'd been feeling. That was all.

 

"Oh my god, I missed you," Jeff said, squeezing him tightly one last time before letting him go. "But I'm also starving. Have you got lunch under control?"

 

"I think the question should be more like, 'are you ready to have the best falafel of your _life_?'" Nick asked happily, then turned to face the couch. "You sure you're okay, Blaine? You want us to bring you back something?"

 

Blaine shook his head, waving them away, but Nick could see pain in his eyes that hadn't been there a few minutes prior. Before he could ask what was wrong, however, Jeff was dragging him toward the door. He left with a wave and the promise to ask what was going on as soon as they returned.

 

* * *

 

The door banged shut, and Blaine slumped back to the couch and let the tears come. Watching Nick and Jeff's reunion had hurt more than he'd anticipated. _Oh_ ,how it ached when Jeff burst through the door and nearly knocked Nick over with the force of his hug. He could almost feel Kurt in his arms as he watched them – one of Blaine's favorite things about his husband was how, when he was surprised or just extraordinarily happy, Kurt would catapult himself at him, throwing his arms around Blaine's neck with abandon.

 

He worried a little that he'd never feel Kurt's arms around his neck again.

 

* * *

 

Kurt was idly sketching in bed under the blaze of the late-afternoon sun, dreaming up dresses to put Rachel in for the next Tony awards. _More feathers,_ he thought as he lightly shaded the short train. _Think Swan Lake, Kurt, more feathers_ … Rachel would look gorgeous in this dress, striking and unique and dramatic, and he wondered what look she'd be going for – he wanted to make her look perfect, especially since she'd more than likely be nominated.

 

He was just starting on the skeleton of a birdcage veil when a knock on his door made him jump.

 

"Hey Kurt?"

 

"Yeah, Jeff, come on in," he said, setting his sketchpad and pencils aside. "I didn't realize you were back."

 

"I didn't wake you, did I?" Jeff asked, creeping into the bedroom.

 

"No, no, I was just sketching."

 

Jeff perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed, leaning with one hand against the bottom of the bedframe. "So, Nick and I kind of made plans for tonight – we're meeting him and Blaine at the Sidewalk Café at eight."

 

Kurt kept his voice neutral. "Alright."

 

"Listen," Jeff said, running a finger over the soft linen duvet cover, "if you don't feel up for it … I didn't know what was going on with you guys when I told Nick I wanted to get together last week. If you or Blaine either one want to back out –"

 

"We've known each other for thirteen years. We've been married for six. I think we can handle one night together," Kurt said with a sigh.

 

"Okay, just checking. I just don't want to make you uncomfortable, you know?"

 

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Tell me, Jeff – what part of my life _isn't_ uncomfortable right now?"

 

Jeff wouldn't meet his eyes. "Yeah – I'm really sorry about everything, Kurt. I can't imagine –"

 

"If you don't mind," Kurt interrupted, "I think I'd rather not talk about it anymore. I'm sorry."

 

"No, _I'm_ sorry. I just – I don't know what to say –"

 

Kurt smiled at Jeff's hunched, nervous shoulders and thought, in wonder, _none of us know what we're doing at all, do we?_

 

"Why don't you tell me about what it's like to be an architect?" he suggested. "I can't imagine that it'd be that different from designing clothes, except for a lot more calculus …"

 

* * *

 

" _Jeff! Kurt!_ " Nick called, waving his arm high in the air as he saw the two men approaching from a block away. It had only been a few hours since he'd seen Jeff last, but his heart leapt in his chest at the sight of his best friend walking toward him with a huge grin on his face. _Phantom pain._

 

Jeff waved back and jogged up to meet him. "Hey! Did you guys have a good afternoon?"

 

Nick leaned willingly into Jeff's open arms, clapping him on the back. "It was relaxing. Blaine took a nap," Nick said.

 

"Yeah, so did Kurt." Jeff gestured behind him as Kurt slowly ambled toward them, his slim figure more otherworldly-looking than usual. Something in his eyes, in his exposed collarbones, in his sallow skin reminded Nick of an apparition, and he wondered if Kurt wouldn't just disappear in front of their eyes before the night was over.

 

"Hi, Blaine." Kurt's quiet voice, more like a whisper in the wind, barely registered in Nick's ears, and he glanced sideways, startled to see Blaine standing right at his shoulder.

 

"Hey."

 

They looked at each other, then back to the ground. The air around their whole party flickered with the tension, and the hair on the back of Nick's neck were just starting to prickle when Blaine spoke up.

 

"We should probably try to find a seat – I think the next act starts in a few minutes," Blaine said, shuffling his feet toward the crowded bar. Kurt followed him, his shoulders hunched, his head hung, looking like a ghost of the man he used to be.

 

"Did you see Kurt's face?" Jeff murmured in Nick's ear as they entered the bar behind their friends, suddenly enveloped in a cacophony of chattered conversations. Nick tried to ignore the way the hair on the back of his neck tried to stand up again, told himself it was remnants of the tension left over from outside.

 

"I did, and I think Blaine's worse than he was when he first showed up at Dalton," he said back, raising his voice to a stage whisper to be heard above the noise. "I wish there was something we could do."

 

But there wasn't. Kurt still looked too thin, and big, dark circles were appearing in half-moons under his eyes. When the waitress came to take their orders, he only asked for a diet ginger ale. Blaine's face turned stormy upon hearing his meager order, and Kurt stared him down, daring him to say something about it. He didn't.

 

Nick thought if he reached out, he'd probably be electrocuted with all the negative energy in the air between them. "So, how's Rachel?" he asked, attempting to alleviate some of the tension.

 

Blaine slumped back in his chair and looked at the ceiling when Kurt answered.

 

"She's fine. Better than fine, really. Her first headlining role _had_ tohave been Fannie, but really, she deserves all the bragging rights. She's _good_. Her head is bigger than ever, but … I'll be the first to admit, it's for good reason," he said, playing with his straw. "She's also been kind of a lifesaver the last several days."

 

Another long, awkward silence came over the table.

 

"Soooo," Jeff drawled out eventually, "how's the designing going, Kurt? Are you working on your own line yet?"

 

"I'm taking a break, of sorts," Kurt answered. "To rest."

 

"Oh," Jeff said, sounding as awkward as Nick was sure he felt. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I thought when you were sketching this afternoon …"

 

"Oh. That was just an idea for a dress for Rach," Kurt shrugged.

 

Nick was trying to think of something bland and banal to talk about when they were saved by the most god-awful songstress he had ever heard. She was flat throughout her entire first song, and the amps were turned up too loud, squeaking and squawking in everyone's ears. He was grateful for the distraction from the awkward, stilted conversation, but exchanged a worried look with Jeff when he saw Blaine and Kurt both sunken down in their seats, looking utterly defeated.

 

When the girl finally finished and the overhead speakers took over, Blaine tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the table and rose from his seat. "I'm really tired," he said without any further explanation. "I think I'll just catch a cab, go home. Or – you know what I mean, back to your place, Nick, if that's still cool."

 

Kurt stiffened, brittle and friable, as Nick nodded. "Yeah, sure. I may be in late, though."

 

Blaine shrugged. "I'm told I sleep like the dead. I doubt you'll wake me up," he said, and turned to leave.

 

Kurt pressed his lips together as he watched Blaine's back retreat from the bar. "You okay, man?" Jeff asked, placing a hand on Kurt's shoulder.

 

"Yeah, I – yeah."

 

"You want something to eat?" Nick asked. "Soup or a sandwich or something?"

 

"No. I'm not hungry." Kurt's voice sounded hollow. "I'm sorry."

 

Nick just shrugged. "I didn't eat hardly anything for a week after Caroline left, either. It's okay."

 

"I – how is he?" Kurt asked, clearly on the verge of breaking, just as the speakers started blaring the opening notes of _My Life Would Suck Without You_. He laughed, and Nick thought it was more to keep himself from crying than anything. "You know what?" he said over the music. "Don’t even bother answering that. I'm going to be absolutely horrible company tonight. I think I'll go, too."

 

"Kurt, no –" Nick said, but Kurt held up a hand.

 

"Seriously. You guys have a lot of catching up to do. I'm just gonna –" He scooted his chair back and, like Blaine, threw a twenty on the table.

 

"Kurt –" Jeff tried as well, but it was no use. He was already making his way toward the door.

 

"Well," Nick said.

 

"Well." Jeff paused. "They're worse than I thought."

 

"Tell me about it. I think I need another beer, after seeing that. That's worse than those chick flicks Caroline always made me watch."

 

"Beer's on me," Jeff said, flagging down the waitress. "Another IPA for me, and – what'd you have? A nut brown lager?"

 

Nick nodded, and the waitress went away with their orders. "Thanks."

 

Jeff shrugged. "No problem. So how are _you_ holding up? Are you and Blaine just helping each other wallow in your misery, or what?"

 

"No, actually I'm okay. _Surprisingly_ okay," he said, and meant it, too. "The more I think about it, and the longer I'm away from her – I don't think I loved Caroline as much as I thought I did. Or as much as I wanted to, maybe. And she obviously didn't love me, so …"

 

"Makes sense," Jeff said with a little shrug. "You want something so bad, you convince yourself it's there. It's better that you got out of it before you made a more permanent mistake."

 

Nick cocked his head, raised his eyebrows. "It sounds like you speak from experience. Something I should know about?"

 

"Oh, no, nothing important – it was just this guy, a while ago," Jeff said, looking down into his empty glass. "Wasn't serious. Nothing ever panned out."

 

"I'm sorry to hear that."

 

Jeff chuckled. "Yeah, me too." He paused as the waitress came back with their drinks, taking a long draw from his glass. "So anyway, how's life in the Big Apple?"

 

"It's good. Really good. I like my job." And he _was_ good; the city made him feel alive in ways that Chicago hadn't quite accomplished, there was just something about New York, and his co-workers were great and he was settling in well, was well liked. But… "But – it hasn't started to feel like home yet, you know? And I miss you."

 

Jeff's eyes darted up from his glass. "I miss you, too. I never – it's harder than I thought it'd be, actually," he said.

 

"Really? How?"

 

"Well yeah – stupid things, like nobody else I know likes that Chinese place down the street from my apartment – Foo Mu Shoo or Mu Shoo Foo or whatever it was called. It's kind of ruined for me now, because eating there just makes me lonely."

 

"Oh," Nick said, and fell quiet for a moment, remembering the times they'd sat on Jeff's floor, eating out of take-out containers, watching movies. "I'm sorry."

 

"Hey, it's not your fault. I'm really glad for you," Jeff said, smiling at him.

 

"Yeah, I'm glad for me, too. And who knows – maybe you can move here, too. We can be roommates. Unless – you haven't met somebody since I've been gone, have you?"

 

Jeff laughed. "No. Definitively, _no_."

 

"Are you looking?" Nick asked. "Or do you just not want –"

 

"I haven't found anyone who's measured up."

 

"Measured up to what?"

 

"My extraordinarily high standards," Jeff said easily. "What about you – are you dating any?"

 

Nick drummed his fingers against the table. "I'm skeptical," he said, though he wasn't sure if that was the correct word to use for it. "I don't know if I can ever trust another girl again –"

 

"There are reasons why I don't touch them with a ten-foot pole."

 

Nick raised his eyebrows, a rush of boldness flowing through him. "Mainly because you like dick, though, right? Not so much because of their level of trustworthiness?" he said, and Jeff nearly snorted beer up his nose.

 

"Yeah," he laughed, "you've got me pegged."

 

"Oh _really_?" Nick said, then broke into a fit of laughter with Jeff that had them gripping their beer glasses.

 

"Wow, _really_ bad choice of words, there," Jeff said when he'd finally recovered. "Pegging – not my kink. Although, _you_ picked up on that one pretty quickly …"

 

Nick's cheeks burned. "Yeah, not really mine, either." The lie came out thick as molasses – he'd never done it, never tried, but the amount of time he'd spent looking at strap-ons, trying to find a way to ask … "Um, can we talk about something besides pegging, please?"

 

"Sure," Jeff grinned, as Nick tried not to stare at his ruddy cheeks. "You into bondage?"

 

"Oh my _god_ ," Nick groaned, his cheeks brighter than ever. "I'm gonna need another beer."

 

* * *

 

Kurt knew that Jeff wouldn't ever expect him to wait up until he got home from the bar, but with the chronic insomnia that the loss of Violet had brought, he didn't have much of a choice. He was reading Blaine's first novel when the door swung open and a very buzzed, clumsy Jeff stumbled in.

 

"What're you still doing up?" he asked.

 

"I can't ever sleep anymore," Kurt said. "Too many nightmares."

 

"About Blaine?"

 

Alcohol clearly dissolved Jeff's filter.

 

"About Blaine, yes. And Violet. And losing both of them at the same time. Kind of what's happened now, actually," Kurt said with a heavy sigh.

 

"Wow. Aren't you so sad?" Jeff's eyes were wide as a puppy's, his voice surprisingly tender.

 

Kurt looked Jeff straight in the eye. "I really, really am," he said, too exhausted with it to even shed a tear.

 

"I'm sad, too. Not as sad as you are, but – can I tell you something that I've never told anyone before?"

 

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I think you're a little drunk."

 

"I'm _glad_ I'm a little drunk, or I'd never be able to say it out loud," Jeff admitted, flopping down on the couch beside Kurt.

 

"Well, by all means – maybe it will distract me from my own misery," Kurt said.

 

Jeff leaned close, a very serious look in his eye. "I'm in love with Nick."

 

" _What_?" It came as such a shock that Kurt dropped his book on the floor.

 

"I've been in love with him since we met, our freshman year at Dalton. I wasn't even out yet, and I fell so hard and so fast …"

 

"Well," Kurt said, blinking. "You hide it rather well."

 

"Really?"

 

"I never knew." He really, really didn't. All those Warbler practices and late pizza-and-study-group nights and the few parties he'd attended, and then the get-togethers in college, and he _never knew_. How could Jeff be so discreet? When Kurt had a crush, it was like a blaring neon sign above his head. And Jeff wasn't even an _actor_!

 

"Huh," Jeff said, leaning back again. "I don't know if that's good or bad."

 

"Well, considering that he's straight –"

 

" _Mostly_ straight," Jeff corrected.

 

Kurt raised his eyebrows. " _Really_."

 

"You remember how it was at Dalton, right? All boys, no girls, lots of hormones? I know he experimented, and I know he said it wasn't awful. There were a few things in college – I don't think he's ever gone farther than kissing, but … there it is. It's nice, actually – he can appreciate good-looking men without getting freaked out over it. But he's only ever dated women."

 

"So …" Kurt hardly knew what to say. This was groundbreaking gossip. This was the kind of gossip that would've made high school-Kurt and part of college-Kurt tingle with excitement. He was tingling now, if he was being honest with himself. He had to call Blaine and see if he knew –

 

Kurt's train of thought stopped in its tracks. _You can't call Blaine, you idiot,_ he reminded himself. "So," he said again, redirecting, "if you don't mind my asking … did any of those experiments happen to involve you?"

 

Jeff sighed. "Almost. There was this party we had with some girls from Crawford County Day once – we were playing Seven Minutes in Heaven, and somehow Nick and I got put together. I'd _just_ come out, and the girls were teasing Nick, saying they'd take my place if he wanted, but he was so smooth about it. He just grabbed my hand and marched us both into that closet."

 

"Did anything _happen_?"

 

"Almost," Jeff repeated. "I – he offered. He asked if I'd ever kissed a guy, and I said no. He said he wasn't afraid of kissing me, and Kurt, I almost did – but I told him I didn't want him to feel obligated just because he was my friend. I told him he shouldn't waste a good seven-minute opportunity, and I walked out and got this girl he thought was really pretty at the time to go in instead. I never asked him if they did anything, and he never told me."

 

"Wow." Kurt sat back on the couch, sobering a little. As wonderful gossip as this made, his heart went out to Jeff. He couldn't imagine pining after Blaine for that long, trying to hide his affections, dying inside when he was with someone else. It was bad enough the week Blaine dated Rachel – he couldn't _fathom_ doing that for years. "Well – are you gonna do anything about it?"

 

"I don't know," Jeff groaned miserably. "He's my best friend, Kurt. He's been gone three weeks, and it's like somebody took all my air away."

 

Kurt could certainly appreciate that sentiment, and told him so.

 

"I just can't –" Jeff sighed. "I'm afraid that if I do anything, I'll lose him forever."

 

"He's why you don't date much, then. Why you've never been in a serious relationship," Kurt deduced, the pieces finally beginning to come together, like a puzzle that's taken literally _years_ to figure out.

 

Jeff just laughed. "Every other guy I've ever met just looks stupid next to him. I think I'd rather be single forever and have him as my best friend than be with some guy who's never going to be as good as he is."

 

Kurt whistled. "That's pretty serious. But – wouldn't you rather be with _him_?"

 

"Oh, yeah right. If that were going to happen, it would've happened a long time ago. I've been fine with what we have for so long – I really have a lot more than most guys could hope for. He's so affectionate with me; we kiss each other hello on the cheek, he hugs me, he honestly doesn't care that I'm gay. He just – doesn't date guys."

 

"Have you ever asked him if would?" Kurt countered.

 

"No."

 

"Then you don't know, do you?"

 

"But I –"

 

"I think you're going to be miserable for the rest of your life if you don't do something about this, Jeff. If you've really loved him for fifteen years – that's a long time. Have you ever thought about telling him how you feel?"

 

"So many times. But – I just can't. I'm so afraid he'd turn around and run in the opposite direction …"

 

Kurt nodded. "Well what about this – could you try coming on just a little stronger, and try to read his reaction? If he goes with it, you might feel a little safer talking to him, and if he doesn't, or if he backs off, then that might be a pretty good indication that he's not feeling what you're feeling. And, to be honest, Jeff, if that happens – I'd try to get over him if I were you."

 

Jeff gave him a skeptical look. "Get over him? Do you think you could ever get over Blaine, if he decided not to come back?"

 

It was like Jeff had dropped a boulder into Kurt's stomach. Trying to get over Blaine would be like trying to climb Mount Everest in his current state, slightly malnourished with no training whatsoever. It would kill him if he tried.  "No," he said softly. "No, I don't think I could."

 

Jeff nodded. "Thought so," he said, yawning. "It's getting late. Thanks for listening to me ramble about all this – you gave me some good things to think about."

 

Kurt nodded. "You can have the bed tonight. I doubt I'll be getting much sleep."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"Positive. I'm just going to stay out here and read."

 

"Okay, man, if you say so," Jeff said, trudging back to the bedroom. "Thanks."

 

Kurt sat back and heaved a huge sigh – he wished more than anything that he had his usual confidant to talk this over with, to help him process, but Blaine was off-limits in so many ways, and Kurt didn't think he'd appreciate a late-night phone call just for gossip purposes.

 

God, his missed late-night gossipy phone calls – he hadn't thought about them in years, having lived with Blaine for so long, but back in high school they'd talk till the wee hours of the morning, laughing and critiquing their friends' outfits – _Rachel wore that reindeer sweater again, I can't even –_ and dissecting the numerous love triangles of the Glee club.

 

He picked his book back up, turning dog-eared page after dog-eared page until he found his place, transporting himself back to a time when things were easier, when Kurt was himself and Blaine was Blaine and they were _them_. They weren't _them_ anymore, and he worried that he'd never get _them_ back ever again.

 

* * *

 

**Sunday, September 10 th, 2023**

"Is it stupid that I don't want you to go?" Nick asked, scuffing his shoe on the floor.

 

He'd taken Jeff to the airport, and they were standing in front of security after checking Jeff's bag. Neither one of them seemed to want to move.

 

"No. I don't want to go, either."

 

"I just miss my best friend. Having Blaine and Kurt here is great, but –"

 

"They're not exactly the best company right now, I know," Jeff said with a little grin. "I'm much more fun."

 

"You really are." Nick looked down at the ground. _Phantom pain._ Could he feel it before Jeff had even left?

 

"Hey," Jeff said, his voice soft and gentle. Nick felt his finger under his chin, lifting it until he was staring into Jeff's eyes. "It's not forever, right?"

 

"No," Nick said softly, then his breath left him. Jeff's finger moved away, and Nick found his face cupped carefully between both of Jeff's hands. They were softer than he would've expected, dry and warm on his cheeks, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his temple under Jeff's ring finger. A tingling sensation buzzed down his arms and through his chest as he looked up into Jeff's gray-green eyes from an entirely new angle, his eyelashes fanned out underneath his shaggy blonde hair. He was so close that Nick could almost feel Jeff's breath on his face. _Phantom pain, phantom pain, phantom pain. …Fuck._

 

"I promise I'll come back soon," Jeff said softly, gazing with an intense sincerity into Nick's eyes. And then the moment passed, Jeff's hands dropping back to his sides. Nick could only describe the feeling that filled his chest as _lonely_. "Hey, maybe we can Skype?" Jeff suggested as Nick tried to internally put himself back together again. "Instead of just talking on the phone? I know it's still not the same, but …"

 

Nick smiled, his breath still coming at uneven intervals. "Yeah, sure, that sounds good. Just text me and let me know when."

 

Jeff nodded and gathered his things, digging in his back pocket for his driver's license.

 

"Keep me posted about how things are up here, with Kurt and Blaine," he said. "I'm worried about them."

 

"Will do," Nick promised. "I'll miss you."

 

"I'll miss you, too," Jeff said, stepping in and giving Nick a tight hug, license in hand. "Don't get in any trouble without me."

 

"I would never," Nick said as Jeff slung his bag over his shoulder and walked toward the roped-off security lines. "Oh, and text me when you get home – I want to make sure you get back okay!"

 

Jeff waved his reply, and Nick felt his heart sinking as his friend queued up. He'd never missed anyone like he missed Jeff – not his parents, not his sister, not Caroline, not any other girl he'd ever dated. And for the first time since he came to stay on his couch, Nick selfishly wished that Blaine was a little less broken and a little more whole. Blaine was always the one all the guys had gone to for advice in high school – he was less black-and-white than Wes, less preachy than David, more serious than Jeff and Thad. He was solid and caring and a good friend. And Nick really, really needed that, because _what the fuck was that about_?

 

* * *

 

"You want Thai for dinner?" Nick asked Blaine several hours later. Since he'd gotten back from the airport, they'd both been sitting on the couch, blowing things up on Nick's XBOX. It was much, much easier than talking about the pain that hung in the room like a heavy drape.

 

"Thai makes me think of Kurt," Blaine said flatly.

 

"Well, I guess that's out," Nick said sarcastically as he threw a grenade and a car burst into flames on the screen. "It'd be awful for you to think of your husband …"

 

"Hey, what's your problem?" Blaine snapped, popping a round of bullets into a zombie rounding the corner. "You've been pissy all afternoon."

 

Nick sighed, letting his head fall to his controller, and heard his avatar die with a loud grunt. "I don't know what the hell is going on. Was Jeff acting weird to you this weekend?"

 

"Honestly, Nick, I was a little preoccupied – I didn't really notice how Jeff was acting."

 

"Oh, right – you and Kurt were too busy making each other miserable. I almost forgot."

 

Blaine gaped at him, throwing his controller down. "Are you tired of me staying here or something? Because I can leave, but you don't have to be an ass –"

 

"No, no, I – it's been a weird day," Nick tried to offer. "I'm sorry. He's just acting weird."

 

"Who, Jeff?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"How so?" Blaine asked.

 

"He just – I don't know, he seemed more physical than normal, or something?"

 

"What are you talking about? You guys have always been pretty tactile – I didn't notice anything more than you always have been."

 

Nick shrugged, thinking of the airport, of Jeff's soft hands on his face. His cheeks still felt like they'd been branded with Jeff's handprints.

 

"Does it bother you?" Blaine asked. "Like – you think he's hitting on you or something?"

 

Nick rolled his eyes. "No, of course it doesn't _bother_ me. And he's not hitting on me."

 

"Then what's the problem?"

 

"I don’t know," Nick said. "Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm reading things wrong. Maybe it's just getting to me that I miss him so much, or something – I really didn't want him to leave."

 

"I keep telling you, there's nothing abnormal about that. It's like – being homesick, but for a person. It would be weirder if you _didn't_ care that he was going back to Chicago."

 

"Yeah, I guess." Nick looked up at Blaine, curiosity in his eyes. "Are you homesick for Kurt?"

 

Blaine's eyes darkened. "No, Nick, I actually really enjoy watching the man I've loved for thirteen years disappearing in front of me. I love living out of a suitcase on your couch. Couldn't you tell how happy I was last night?"

 

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

 

"Look, I just –" Blaine sighed heavily, pushing his fingers into his loose curls. "You have this amazing friendship. I see it, I see how much you guys care about each other, and I just don't understand why you're freaking out so badly over something so insignificant. You miss him. You're _supposed_ to miss people you care about, Nick. He's practically your family."

 

"I never thought about it that way," Nick said softly. "I'm sorry – I guess it wasn't easy last night, was it? Watching us, while Kurt was sitting right across the table?"

 

"Nothing's easy anymore."

 

Nick nodded. "So, no Thai tonight."

 

"No Thai," Blaine agreed.

 

"Pizza?"

 

Blaine made a face.

 

"Okay …" Nick said, searching. "What about that Greek place a couple blocks down?"

 

Blaine perked up at that suggestion. "Yeah, I could go for a gyro."

 

"Sounds awesome." Nick paused. "Oh, hey Blaine?" he said, fiddling with his cell phone.

 

"Mmhmm?"

 

"Thanks for … you know, being cool about things. With Jeff visiting."

 

"Being cool about things – Nick, I'm sleeping on your couch. I'm living at your apartment, and I'm not paying you any rent, and – you have nothing to thank me for. I am, like, _never_ going to be able to pay you back for this. And I don't know what _things_ you're talking about. It's not like you're fucking or something. Not that I'd care if you were."

 

Nick flushed. "No – ahh, no, we're definitely not doing that," he said. "Let's just call it even? It's not like I'm gonna make you sleep on the street, you know."

 

* * *

 

**Monday, September 11 th, 2023**

Kurt had slept all of three hours when, as promised, Rachel showed up at his door, ingredients for a protein shake in tow.

 

"I know you didn't drink these while Jeff was here, did you?" she asked.

 

Kurt shook his head, locks of sleep-rumpled hair falling into his eyes, and stepped aside to let her in.

 

"I should've stayed, but I didn't want to make it more awkward than it was," she said, laying things out on his counter. "I like Jeff, but I knew he couldn't take care of you like I can."

 

Kurt stayed quiet as she chattered and dallied around in his kitchen, content to sit and stare at the table until its wood grain started to blur under his eyes.

 

The blender was going full-force when he realized what day it was.

 

"Oh my god, Rach – stop a minute. I need to call Blaine."

 

She looked up at him. "Can't it wait until your shake is done?"

 

"No," he said firmly. "It can't."

 

He went back to the bedroom where his phone lay on the nightstand and shut the door. He hit Blaine's name on his contact list and closed his eyes, hoping.

 

Just when he thought he'd have to leave a voicemail, Blaine answered.

 

"H'llo?" came his sleep-thick voice through the speakers, and Kurt thought his heart might burst.

 

"Blaine? Did I wake you?"

 

"Mmmhmmm."

 

"I'm sorry. I – I don't even know if I'm allowed to call you. I don't know – you never told me what the rules are for this thing we're doing. But it's September eleventh, and I had to talk to you."

 

He heard rustling on Blaine's end of the line. Kurt could picture what he was doing, a fuzzy 8mm in his head, Blaine bleary-eyed on Nick's couch, his hair messy and frizzy, propped on one arm with the phone to his ear.

 

"Kurt, there aren't any rules," Blaine finally said, barely awake.

 

"Oh." Kurt paused. He almost wished there were rules. Rules made things easier. "Do you remember when we went to that 9/11 memorial service senior year in college?"

 

"Mmmhmm."

 

"And then when we went two years ago, at the twentieth anniversary?"

 

"Mmmhmm."

 

"And do you remember that both times, I looked up and saw where the towers used to be, and started to cry?"

 

"'Course I remember."

 

"I cried," Kurt said, his eyes stinging with tears even as he said it, "because I pictured you in those towers, collapsing to the ground with them. I pictured me sitting at home, getting a phone call from you because your plane was crashing. I – Blaine –" He broke off, pressing his fist firmly to his mouth.

 

"Kurt?"

 

"I just – I had to call you. I had to tell you I love you." Kurt choked back a sob. "I don't care if we're fighting or miserable or whatever this hell is that we're in the middle of right now – I love you, Blaine. And I'm just so glad that we were eight, that we were in Ohio when it happened, and that neither one of us were in one of those towers or on one of those planes."

 

"Hey, hey," Blaine said, his voice soft but gruff with sleep. "What brought all this on?"

 

"I don't know," Kurt whimpered. "I just realized, and –" He stopped himself before he blurted out everything he'd been wanting to say since Blaine left. _I miss you. I need you. Please come home._

 

"Okay, hey, _shhh_."

 

Kurt wanted nothing more than for those words to be whispered in his ear while he was cradled in Blaine's strong arms, but he managed to pull himself together before he fell apart completely.

 

"God, I'm sorry," he said, swiping at his eyes with his fingers. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'll let you do – well, whatever you're doing over there."

 

"Nothing's wrong with you," Blaine said, the gentlest he'd spoken to Kurt since he left. "I love you, too. I'm – glad you called."

 

"Am I allowed to say I miss you?" Kurt whispered, his heart trembling like a frightened doe's.

 

" _Kurt_ –" Blaine breathed, half frustration and half pain in his voice, and Kurt just wasn't sure how to take it. "God, of course you are, you think I don't miss you too?"

 

"Then why –"

 

"Just – give me a little more time. Her room, Kurt, I just – and I'm still mad, and –"

 

"Her room's not going anywhere, Blaine," Kurt said carefully.

 

"I know, I know it's not. I just can't – my _baby_ –" Blaine's voice seemed to shatter for a moment. "Just give me a little more time? Please? "

 

"Okay." Blaine's words almost broke Kurt anew and he shook his head, determined to stop the flow of tears. "Okay, Rachel's trying to feed me a protein shake. I need to go."

 

"Oh." Blaine sounded surprised. "Protein – oh, why didn't I think of that?" he mumbled under his breath. Louder then, "How's that going?"

 

"She's as persistent as I am stubborn, if that tells you anything. It's not worth the fight, so I choke it down."

 

"Well. Good." Kurt could hear the failure in Blaine's voice, the guilt, wanted to reassure him that there was no possible way he could've made it better, no way he could've forced anything down Kurt's throat, but he didn't know how to make the words come out of his mouth.

 

"Yeah. I'm not – I've gained five pounds."

 

"Oh. _Good_ ," Blaine said, and Kurt thought he could hear a little shake in his voice.

 

"So – I'm gonna go drink that now, I guess."

 

"Okay. Yeah. Go do that. Tell Rachel –" Blaine paused. "Nevermind. Um, I'll talk to you later?"

 

"Right," Kurt said. "I lo- Bye, Blaine."

 

Kurt hugged a pillow to his chest after he hung up the phone, burying his face in it to stave off a fresh set of tears before taking a deep breath and pulling himself completely back together.

 

"Kurt?" he heard Rachel call from the kitchen. "Your shake is ready! Are you okay?"

 

 _I have no idea_. He didn't know what to make of that phone call, pain and hope and worry all rolled up in a ball, but the thing about hope was that it could fail you, make you believe in something that wouldn't ever happen, and –

 

"Kurt, do I need to come check on you?" Rachel called again, louder this time.

 

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm coming, Rach!" he answered, squaring his shoulders and opening the door.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Blaine hits rock bottom and slowly tries to claw his way back up, Kurt and Rachel have a fight, and baby steps are better than no steps at all.

**Chapter 22**

**Wednesday, September 13 th, 2023**

_Blaine –_

_We're out of beer, sandwich bread, cereal and milk. I hate to ask, but could you run by Fine Fare and get that plus anything else you want while I'm at work today? And maybe get some chicken, too – I've been wanting to grill out while it's still warm enough in the evenings. See you tonight!_

_-Nick_

 

Blaine blinked blearily as he read the note again, then looked at the clock.

 

10:30.

 

Well. He'd slept late again. Some days were just barely worth getting out of bed for. It appeared that this was one of them.

 

He trudged to the bathroom and reluctantly took a quick, hot shower, letting the water roll through his curls and down his face in rivulets. He'd begun to hate showering lately – the scents were so painfully familiar that he'd actually bought different soap and shampoo, but the steamy, quiet room still allowed too much time and space for his mind to wander.

 

Once he was just clean enough for it to count, he yanked on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a cardigan and made the walk to the market. It was a brisk day. Fall was certainly seeping its way into the city, and the air held a crisp sharpness that Blaine still likened to gray dress pants, navy blazers, and his grandma's secret-recipe pumpkin muffins. Soon it would be time to break out the scarves, and –

 

No. Scarves made him think of Kurt and their conversation a few days ago, but thinking of Kurt and home also made him think of Violet. He couldn't think of Violet, couldn't let his heart tear open like that, wouldn't expose himself to _anguish_ like he'd never felt, so …

 

He thought of his grocery list instead. Beer. Milk. Cereal. Bread. Chicken.

 

He repeated the five items in his head over and over until the thought of scarves and Kurt and Violet had disappeared, and he was in front of the supermarket. He picked up a basket, turned around, and promptly collided with Rachel.

 

She shrieked, her hand going immediately inside her purse where he knew she kept her little tube of mace, and he held up his hands.

 

"Rach! Calm down! It's just me," Blaine said, backing away from her.

 

"Oh. Blaine," she said, withdrawing her hand. She blinked at him. "Where have you been?"

 

"I'm at Nick's … I thought Kurt would've told you," Blaine said.

 

"He has. It's just – he needs you _home_. Did you know I'm staying with him right now?"

 

_Beer. Milk. Cereal. Bread. Chicken._

 

"Yeah. Thanks for keeping an eye on him. I, um, I have some shopping to do, so –"

 

"Do you really think you're just going to walk away from me?" Rachel asked indignantly. "Do you even realize what you've done to him?"

 

"Rachel, please don't," Blaine said. "Please." _Beer. Milk. Cereal. Bread._

 

"Huh, that must sound familiar. Isn't that exactly what Kurt said when you were leaving? And did you listen to him?"

 

"Rach –"

 

"Don’t 'Rach' me. You have thrown my very best friend into a tailspin that I'm not sure he's ever going to come out of. You told him that it was his _fault_. You told him you wished he'd never wanted a baby in the first place and then you _left him_. I honestly thought you were a better person than that, Blaine."

 

 _Beer. Milk. …Bread?_ What else was there?

 

"Rachel, you know I –"

 

"The only reason he is eating _anything_ ," she said, stepping close to him and lowering her voice, "is because I'm force-feeding him protein shakes. He was _killing himself_ , and you were just standing by and letting it happen. You say you _love_ him?Then why did you string him along on the phone the other day, like you're ever actually coming back? Why did you leave in the first place?"

 

Blaine closed his eyes and tried very, very hard not to cry in the middle of the supermarket.

 

 _Beer_.

 

He could still get beer.

 

But Rachel wasn’t done. "What kind of husband just sits there and watches the man he's loved for thirteen years _starve himself to death_ , and then _leaves_ when things get harder?"

 

"One who doesn't deserve him, I guess," Blaine said, his voice hollow.

 

Beer. Or vodka. Or whiskey. Or scotch.

 

"Damn right, you don't deserve him –"

 

"I have to go." He placed the empty basket back in its holder and trudged out the door, walking the three and a half blocks to the liquor store. His eyes never left his feet.

 

His own head felt haunted, swarmed by ghosts and demons and, loudest of all, his own voice. _You're killing your husband_ , it yelled, _Did you hear what she said? You're killing him, and it's all your fault. Of course you don’t deserve him. You_ never _deserved him._

 

Blaine pushed the door to the liquor store open, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a two-liter Coke, and threw some money on the counter. He practically ran back to Nick's apartment, desperate to drown out both Rachel's voice and his own. He wanted to sink beneath the surface just far enough that everything was muffled and still. He wanted to escape into a medicated stupor, because nothing else in the world could quell the pain he was feeling.

 

He banged open the door, headed straight to the kitchen for a glass, opened the bottles and began to drink.

 

* * *

 

"Blaine?" Nick called as he burst through the door of his apartment while simultaneously trying to shrug off his jacket and his messenger bag. "Hey, I'll only be home for a second, but –"

 

He stopped in his tracks. Blaine was sitting at his Yamaha keyboard, pounding the keys and singing loudly, completely oblivious to Nick's presence. A bottle of Jack Daniels was balanced precariously on the bench beside him, almost half of it gone, and a bottle of soda sat open in the kitchen. But judging by the amber-colored liquid in Blaine's glass, he'd foregone the soda at some point and was drinking his whiskey straight.

 

Blaine didn't even _like_ whiskey.

 

"Blaine?"

 

" _You loved me 'cause I'm fragile,_ " Blaine was singing, more off-key than Nick had ever heard him, " _When_ _I thought that I was strong – but you touch me for a little while, and all my fragile strength is gone …_ "

 

In the time it took for Nick to cross his tiny living room, Blaine missed three notes on the keyboard and slammed all ten fingers down hard on the keys, creating more noise than music.

 

Nick felt like he was trying to approach a wounded animal. "Blaine."

 

Blaine jumped like he'd been shot. "Wha –"

 

"I came home for lunch to marinate the chicken."

 

"There is no chicken."

 

"Yeah, I think I've just gathered that. How long have you been drinking?" Nick asked.

 

"Long enough," Blaine said with a shrug.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

Inexplicably, he laughed. "What isn't?"

 

Nick sighed. "Okay, man. Let's get you to bed." Blaine grabbed his glass and downed the rest of the whiskey in it. "Hey, slow down a little, there," Nick said, grabbing the bottle of whiskey before Blaine could pour any more of it. "I don't want to have to take you to the hospital for alcohol poisoning."

 

"Bring it on."

 

"Okay, no. I don't know what happened, but I've never seen you like this before," Nick said, scared of the lack of life in his friend's eyes. "Will you please tell me what's going on?"

 

"I do not care," Blaine said, pointing his finger at nothing, trying to sound articulate and failing miserably, "if I don't wake up in the morning. The sky could fall down, right on top of me, and as long as I stop feeling like this I'd probably be fine with it."

 

Nick stared at him.

 

"I don't care – I just want it to stop, Nick," he said, big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "I want somebody to pinch me and wake me up from this fucking nightmare. I've lost everything I've ever had, and it's my fault –" He broke off, his hands and knees quivering.

 

"Okay," Nick said, trying to stay calm. "Okay." He put his hands under Blaine's arms and tugged, and nearly fell over as Blaine's full weight fell on him. He was as floppy as a rag doll. "Bed, now."

 

"Have to piss first," Blaine slurred.

 

They made a detour to the bathroom, where Blaine managed to throw up all over himself and the toilet while he peed. While Nick was mopping up the mess, he threw up again, this time in the floor, then threw up a third time and actually managed to make it to the toilet bowl. By then, he was on the floor, spouting halfway incoherent apologies. "Just go," he begged, his hand landing in the puddle of vomit as he tried to support himself, his whole body shaking hard. "You've done enough – 'm not worth the trouble."

 

Nick felt his hand make contact with the side of Blaine's face before he fully realized what he'd done. " _Stop that_ ," he said harshly as Blaine temple started to redden. "I don't ever want to hear that come out of your mouth again, do you hear me? There's no way in hell I'd leave you like this."

 

Blaine began to cry again.

 

"I'm sorry, I just – Blaine, I wish you could see what you're doing to yourself."

 

"I want to _die_ , some days," Blaine said, his face twisting as he sobbed. "I mean – I wouldn't – I just _hate_ myself …"

 

Nick sighed. "Arms up," he said, and Blaine looked up at him, confused. "I'm getting you out of these clothes. Now, arms up." He tugged Blaine's disgusting t-shirt off over his head, undid his pants, pulled them down his legs. "Okay, can you walk?" he asked as Blaine fumbled out of his jeans.

 

"Dunno. I guess we'll see," Blaine said, standing on trembling legs. Nick turned on the faucet and thrust Blaine's hands under the spray of water. He helped Blaine to the bedroom and tucked his covers under Blaine's chin.

 

"Go to sleep," Nick sighed. "If you need to puke, _please_ try to puke in the trash can. I'll be checking on you, but I'm in the living room if you need me."

 

Blaine nodded, looking pitiful and small in his bed. "Tell Kurt I'm sorry," he whispered. "I don't want him to die."

 

"You don't want him to _what_?"Nick asked, perplexed, but Blaine had already slipped into a deep sleep before he could answer.

 

* * *

 

"How do you feel about pumpkin in your protein shakes?"

 

Kurt looked from the box of summer scarves he was putting away. "Skeptical."

 

"Don't count it out yet – I can put nutmeg and cinnamon in them …" Rachel said.

 

"Still. A pumpkin shake? That sounds – potentially less than appetizing." He happened upon the scarf he'd worn as an ascot the day they brought Violet home from the hospital, and an insane desire to throw it away passed over him. He held it out to Rachel. "Do you know anyone who might want this?"

 

Her eyes lit up. "I love that ascot! Oh, there's a guy in the show who would die over it – but why are you giving it away?"

 

"I'm tired of it," Kurt lied.

 

"Well, one person's trash …" Rachel said, grabbing it and tucking it into her bag. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you – I saw Blaine at the store today."

 

Kurt snapped to attention. "What?"

 

"Yes – did you know he's growing a _beard_?"

 

Kurt couldn't help himself – he snorted out loud at Rachel's disgusted face.

 

"It doesn't suit him at all. Anyway, I had a whole speech planned, explaining exactly what a terrible husband he's been to you, but he didn't even let me finish –"

 

Kurt looked at her, horrified. "Please, _please_ tell me you did not actually do that …" If she did, it would mean disaster. Blaine didn't take criticism well on a _good_ day, but right now …

 

"Well of course I did! No one treats you like that and gets away with it, Kurt, not even him. I just felt I needed to step in –"

 

"Do you have any _idea_ ," Kurt snapped, his temper flaring, "how unstable he is right now? What did you say to him?"

 

"I told him how awful I thought it was that you were practically killing yourself in front of him, and he stood by and did nothing. And I gave him a taste of his own medicine."

 

"You had no right –"

 

"I had _every_ right, Kurt! He _left_ you!"

 

" _He_ isn't Blaine right now!" Kurt exclaimed. "You don't actually think that _my_ Blaine – the Blaine I fell in love with and married – would do any of the things that he's been doing? Do you think _I'm_ acting like myself right now? Because neither one of us are in our right minds, Rachel. Do you understand that at all?"

 

She shrunk back. "I was just trying to help."

 

"Well you didn't!" he shouted. "We'll be lucky if he doesn't just go off the deep end after that – I can't _believe_ you insinuated that it was _his fault_ that I wasn't eating!"

 

"Well _I_ can't believe you're defending him, after what he did to you!" Rachel shouted right back. "And I can't believe that you're mad at _me_ when I'm the only reason you aren't losing weight anymore!"

 

Kurt glared at her. "Rachel, he is my _husband._ Of course he's not perfect. Of _course_ I thought it would kill me when he left that day, but I haven't died yet. We've been through hell over the last three months, and I think you should cut him some slack. And don't act like you're the only one holding me together, either. I appreciate what you've done, but nothing you did today was okay. _None_ of it."

 

"Well pardon me for _moving into your house_ and _caring about you_ enough to chew out your deadbeat of a husband –"

 

"Get out," Kurt ordered, pointing his finger toward the door. "Now."

 

"Fine. Fine," she said, breathing deep, and Kurt could tell she was trying not to cry. "You want to kick your best friend, who's done nothing but _take care of you_ for the past two weeks, _fine_. Butyou're on your own, now."

 

He held his stance as she stomped out the door, but as soon as it shut behind her, he sank down onto the bed and held his head in his hands. He couldn't do this anymore.

 

 _I give up_ , he silently screamed. _I give up, I give up, I give up – I don't know what else you want from me, but there's nothing left. You've taken everything._ He didn't even know who he was talking to.

 

He crawled under the covers, not even bothering to move the box of scarves on the bed, and prayed with everything he had that someone, somewhere would remember how to love him again soon.

 

* * *

 

Nick was sitting on the couch in front of the TV, in between one of his every-thirty-minute checks to make sure Blaine was still breathing, and wasn't in the process of slitting his wrists open or swallowing down every medication Nick had in his medicine cabinet. He was half-watching an old CSI rerun, tapping out a text message to Jeff to update him on the situation, when his phone buzzed in his hand. Kurt was calling him.

 

"Hey, Kurt." He knew he sounded exhausted, but tried to keep it from his voice – it would only make Kurt worry more.

 

"Is Blaine with you? _Please_ tell me he's with you –"

 

"He is," Nick assured him. "He's sleeping off about a half a bottle of Jack Daniels right now, but he'll be fine."

 

"Oh, god." Kurt's voice cracked on the other end of the line.

 

"Hey, hey, don't you fall apart on me, too. I can only be in one place at once," Nick said as lightly as he could, wishing desperately that Jeff was there to be his second set of hands. "Where's Rachel?"

 

"Gone," Kurt answered thickly.

 

Nick was puzzled. "Where'd she go? And how did you know –"

 

" _She_ is the reason –" Kurt started, then was quiet. "She – I can't do this, Nick. I can't."

 

"Okay, okay, calm down. You're fine. He's fine. We're gonna figure it out, okay? Is she coming back?"

 

"No."

 

Nick sighed. "Well, will you be alright by yourself tonight, or do I need to call someone?"

 

"I – I'll be fine. Just keep him safe for me, please …"

 

"I swear, he will be in one piece come tomorrow morning. You've got my word on that, okay?" Kurt didn't say anything. "Listen," Nick said, "Blaine said something really weird right before he went to sleep – something about not wanting you to die –"

 

Kurt laughed darkly. "You've got Rachel to thank for that, too. I don’t want to talk about it anymore."

 

" …Okay," Nick said, still completely perplexed. "So, you're okay, then?"

 

"I'm not dying tomorrow if that's what you mean," Kurt told him. "Not to cut you off, but I think I'm gonna go to sleep. I feel like hell. When Blaine wakes up, tell him I'm sorry, that it wasn't me, okay?"

 

"Sure, Kurt, anything you want …"

 

"Thanks. I – Nick – thank you for letting him stay with you. I can't even imagine what he'd be like if he'd gone somewhere else –"

 

Nick ran his hand through his shaggy hair. "I keep telling both of you, it's _nothing_. I'm happy to let him have my couch. Really, he's keeping me company as much as I am him. Go take your nap, okay? I'll text you an update before I go to bed."

 

"Thank you _so_ much," Kurt said, his voice filled with gratitude. "He's all – he's –" He broke off just before he started crying again.

 

"I know, Kurt. I know he is."

 

* * *

 

 **Thursday, September 14 th, 2023  
**Blaine slept himself sober and straight through a horrific hangover, only waking twice until early Thursday morning – once to throw up in a trash can, and once to drag himself to the couch so that Nick could sleep in his own bed.

 

But now it was three AM, and after fifteen hours of the heaviest sleep he'd had in a long time, his body was very awake.

 

He crept across the room, trying to be both steady on his feet and quiet as well, and made it to Nick's living room window.

 

He stared down the street and pondered how oddly inspiring it was that in the wee hours of the morning, before the sun even began to show its face, that his beloved city found a way to shine so brightly it could be seen from space.

 

There was a metaphor to be found there, but try as he might, Blaine couldn't pinpoint it. In fact, the only thing he _could_ see was the idea's mirror image, that in spite of the things that could make his life a little brighter, he was always shrouded in darkness.

 

Blaine realized in that moment, watching the city continue its pell-mell but stubbornly persistent forward motion, that forward motion was the only option he really had left. It was that, or cease to function altogether. And he still had so much life ahead of him. He wasn't even thirty yet, after all – though he would be in a couple of weeks.

 

He looked out the window, watching cabs go by and people walking home, laughing loudly, from bars and clubs and late nights out. And Blaine understood with a burst of clarity that this was no way to turn thirty. That he was very, _very_ tired of being in the dark.

 

And with more resolve than he'd felt in ages, he turned, opened his laptop, and started the long journey back toward the light.

 

* * *

 

Kurt awoke to the sound of a pigeon cooing outside his window. The first rays of sunlight peeked through his blinds, casting a faint glow in his dark room. He rolled over and immediately rolled back, shocked at how cold the empty side of his bed was with neither Blaine's solid heat nor Rachel's soft warmth there through the night.

 

He tried to go back to sleep, but the pigeon's gentle cooing became a song as other birds joined in. Grumpily, he dragged himself out of bed and raised the blinds to find the pigeon and two little, fat, yellow warblers chirping away on his window ledge. His heart clenched painfully as he thought of Blaine, and with a jerk he raised the window and shooed the birds away. Their song stopped as they darted away on the wind, flying in the direction of Tomkins Square Park, and he was left in silence, shivering from the cool early-morning breeze blowing over his face.

 

Closing the window with a loud _thunk_ , Kurt turned and pulled the quilt off the bed, wrapping it around his shoulders and letting it drag the ground behind him. He closed his eyes, remembering when he'd drape blankets over his shoulders as a child, pretending they were capes. (The Queen of England kind of cape, he'd corrected his father, not the Superman kind of cape. People couldn't fly, but they could carry scepters and wear crowns, and he wanted one of each.)

 

He trudged into the kitchen while memories of his childhood trailed behind him, hanging onto the tail of the quilt and refusing to let go. The sight of his mother's back as she played the piano while he played with his toys in the floor. The smell of motor oil. The feel of a tiny teacup handle between his fingers as he taught his dad how to properly drink tea. The taste of his mom's secret-recipe spice cookies that he nor his dad could ever figure out how to replicate. The sound of his mother and father, laughing together quietly in their room at night when they thought he was asleep.

 

And, as he began to brew a large pot of coffee, he suddenly ached for home worse than he had in a long, long while.

 

When the coffee was done, he poured a large mug of it and curled up in the recliner. Pulling the blanket tighter around him, he picked up his phone.

 

"Hummel Tire and Lube."

 

Kurt's fragile resolve broke at the familiar voice speaking the familiar words – how many times had he called the tire shop in his life and heard that exact phrase?

 

"Daddy?"

 

Burt's voice took on an urgent tone. "Kurt? What's wrong? Are you alright? Is Blaine alright?"

 

"I miss you," Kurt said, his voice cracking as the tears fell fast from his eyes.

 

"I miss you too, kiddo," his dad said gently, and Kurt could hear him murmuring something to one of the guys at the shop. "Hang on, let me get to my office."

 

Kurt tried to sip his coffee as he waited, but his tears were falling into the mug and his hand was shaking so badly that he could barely get it to his lips.

 

"Okay, what's going on? There's more to this than homesickness – you haven't been homesick in years. Not bad enough to cry over."

 

"I lied to you," Kurt said, too exhausted and broken to tell his dad anything but the truth.

 

"Okay," Burt said uneasily. "What about?"

 

"Everything." Kurt began to cry harder. "That we were okay. That _I_ was okay. That we went to get counseling –"

 

"Wait, you never saw anybody?" his dad interrupted.

 

"No," Kurt answered, his voice cracking through the tears.

 

Burt sighed into the phone. "Okay, _shhhh_ , it's okay."

 

"No Dad, it's not. Nothing's okay…"

 

"Hey, hey, it _is._ It will be. Put Blaine on the phone for a minute, okay?"

 

"He's gone," Kurt whispered.

 

"He's _what_?"

 

"Gone, Dad," Kurt said. All it took was a listening ear from his father, and the floodgates opened – he spilled out the whole story, from beginning to end, from his loss of appetite to Blaine walking out after the nursery fiasco, ending with the fight he and Rachel had the night before. And slowly, as more and more of the stress and burden lifted from him, his tears began to subside.

 

Burt whistled low into the phone. "So, what now? You wanna come home for a while? You want me there? Knock some sense into that husband of yours?"

 

"No," Kurt said quietly. "That's not what I want. I want him to come back when he's ready and because he wants to. If he came back now, I think we'd be worse off than before."

 

"Shit," his dad breathed, "I can't even be mad at him. I feel like I'm supposed to be furious at anybody who just walks out of your life, but – damn, Kurt. It's Blaine. I just _can't_."

 

"I know, Dad," Kurt said. "He's miserable – maybe even more than I am."

 

"Well – you know you can always come here, if he needs time to figure stuff out. You working right now?"

 

"I took a leave of absence."

 

"Good. Come home, then – you know I always want you here, and Carole would love to see you. Maybe you two could go to Columbus for a day and go shopping or something …"

 

Kurt considered this – home, where things were familiar, where hugs were plentiful and forgiveness was easy, where he'd be doted on and cooked for. But – what if Blaine came home only to find an empty house? What would he do with Romeo?

 

"Let me think about it a while, okay?"

 

"Sure thing. You just let me know," Burt said. "And Kurt? Please, whether you come home or not, _please_ consider getting some help. You can't expect yourself to do this on your own."

 

"Okay," Kurt said softly. "I will. I love you, Dad."

 

"I love you too, son."

 

Kurt hung up the phone and sighed, sipping his cooling coffee while he gazed out the window. The trees that lined the sidewalks were just beginning to turn, hints of yellow and orange and red appearing among the branches. He couldn't help but hope that Blaine might be back before the leaves began to fall.

 

* * *

 

Nick groaned as bright sunlight streamed through his bedroom window and a truck beeping loudly as it backed up outside. What _time_ was it? It couldn't possibly be morning already …

 

He rolled over and had nearly dozed off again when he remembered the afternoon and evening before and why he wasn't going into work that morning. Stumbling out of bed, he haphazardly pulled a t-shirt over his head, worried that he'd find Blaine drinking again, or something much worse.

 

Instead, when he'd burst into his own living room a little more dramatically than necessary, he saw Blaine sitting cross-legged on the couch, looking very subdued with his laptop perched on his knees.

 

"Oh. Uh, morning," Nick said, rubbing his eyes.

 

"You slept in today," Blaine said softly. "Do you have a late meeting scheduled or something?"

 

Nick shook his head, a little irked that Blaine would think that he'd actually leave him at home alone after the stunt he'd pulled the afternoon before. "I called in."

 

"You can't keep doing that," Blaine sighed. "I really don't want to lose your job over me –"

 

"And I don't want to lose you, period!" Nick said hotly, his pent-up worry and frustration finally bubbling to the surface. He hated to yell at his friend, but _god,_ Blaine could be dense sometimes. "I don't want to have to call Kurt and tell him you're in the hospital having your stomach pumped! I don't want to have to tell him you're in some sort of liver failure because you drank yourself to death! And I definitely don't want to come home and find you laying on the ground, bleeding out of your wrists, or hanging in my closet, or –"

 

Blaine seemed to shrink even smaller on the couch. "You know I'd never do that," he mumbled.

 

"You said you wanted to die yesterday!" Nick exclaimed.

 

Blaine flushed. "Did I? I don't remember that … but I don't remember much, I guess. It's all kind of hazy."

 

"Well, whether you meant that or not, you wanted to a long time ago." Nick perched on the couch, softening his tone and putting an arm around Blaine's slight shoulders. "You told me, remember?"

 

"That was – I was fifteen, I was terrified, I wouldn't have –"

 

"You knew how you would've done it," Nick reminded him. "And it's not like teenagers are the only ones who kill themselves, you know?"

 

Blaine nodded minutely. "I know. But that's not – I can't do this anymore," he said softly. "I can't – it's not living, what I'm doing."

 

"No shit."

 

"I'm sorry you've had to put up with the worst of me, Nick."

 

He smiled sadly. "You know, even the worst of you isn't all that bad. The Blaine I know is still somewhere under there," he said, poking Blaine in the side.

 

"Great. You wanna find him for me?" Blaine sighed. "I just – I don't know. It took me a while to realize how not okay I really am. I –" he cut himself off, and Nick wondered exactly what it was that he couldn't manage to say. "I – yeah. Not okay."

 

"So what are you going to do about it?"

 

"I found this lady …" Blaine said, turning the laptop screen toward him.

 

Nick skimmed over the website. "That's awesome," he said slowly. "But – you're going to see a hippie? She looks like a hippie, Blaine."

 

"If she's a hippie, she's a hippie with a doctoral degree, and I don't care about her terrible taste in clothing – although Kurt might, now that I think about it – as long as she can help. She's all the way in Chelsea, but she's LGBT-friendly and she does bereavement, and –"

 

"Blaine," Nick said, placing his hands firmly on his friend's shoulders and squeezing them, "I am so proud of you." He hadn't seen this much nervous excitement from Blaine since the first time he'd seen Violet's ultrasound picture.

 

But suddenly the excitement fell, and Blaine was left in a bundle of nerves. "If my dad ever found out –"

 

Nick wanted to punch something. He'd hated Blaine's dad ever since their first parent weekend at Dalton, when he realized that none of Blaine's complaints about him were exaggerations. "Screw your dad. Screw his obsession with image and his archaic beliefs and his bigoted ideas and get yourself some _help_ , Blaine."

 

"I think I've needed it longer than I'd like to admit," he said reluctantly.

 

"Have you made an appointment yet?" Nick asked.

 

"No. I – I'd like to call Kurt first. She does couple's counseling, too."

 

"Good. _Good_ ," Nick said, feeling the worry start to lift for the first time in days.

 

"Nick." Blaine's hand clenched firmly around his wrist. "What if he doesn't even want to try?"

 

"He will."

 

"How do you know?"

 

Nick shrugged. "I just do. Because it's you. Because it's him."

 

Blaine looked up with round, sad orbs for eyes. "Does it make me a horrible person that you have more faith in us than I do right now?"

 

Nick smiled sadly at him. "I don't think anything could make me think you're a horrible person, Blaine. I just don't think you can see the forest for the trees."

 

Blaine grunted.

 

"I'm gonna go take a shower now. I can make it an extra-long one if you want me to," Nick offered.

 

"I'm just going to call to see if he wants to meet for coffee," Blaine said, shaking his head. "I want to have this conversation in person."

 

"Probably best," Nick said, standing up. "You know," he said, looking over his shoulder as he walked back to his room, "you're free to stay here for a while longer. If you guys still need time to work things out."

 

Blaine rose from the couch and strode over to Nick, wrapping him in a tight hug. "Thank you," he said as Nick clapped him on the back. "You have no idea what this means –"

 

"You'd do the same thing for me. Go call your husband, okay?" Nick walked off to his bedroom, leaving Blaine to stare at his contact list. He had half a mind to text Blaine the _Courage_ message, but he left it alone. That was Kurt and Blaine's thing, had always been, and he didn't want to step inside an in-joke that didn't belong to him.

 

Instead, he whispered a quiet prayer, drilled into his memory from his childhood church, that god – in whatever form Kurt and Blaine chose to embrace – would bring them both comfort and peace and healing.

 

* * *

 

Kurt was buried in Blaine's novel, still bundled in the quilt, when his phone started to ring on the coffee table. He laughed as Romeo woke with a start and began growling at it from his dog bed.

 

Expecting his dad, he picked it up without even looking at the screen.

 

"If you're calling about the plane tickets, I still haven't made up my mind yet," he said.

 

"Kurt?"

 

He nearly dropped the phone. " _Blaine_?"

 

"Yeah … hey."

 

"… Hi." Kurt's heart was a stampeding horse in his chest – what was this about? Was it Blaine calling to tell him that he was fine after his bender the day before? To yell at him for what Rachel said? To say he was coming home, or – oh god, _never_ coming home? He took a deep breath, yanked on the reins to his heart. "I'm sorry – I thought you were my dad calling –"

 

"What was that about plane tickets? Plane tickets to where? Are you – Kurt, are you _leaving_?"

 

The panic in Blaine's voice stunned Kurt enough to make a tiny voice in his head whisper _maybe this will be okay_ , and his mind was made up, after all."No," Kurt said, blessedly confident. "I'm not going anywhere."

 

"Okay," and for all of Kurt's confidence, Blaine still sounded awfully uncertain.

 

"So …" _Why are you calling? What is this strange dance we're doing? What in the_ hell, _Blaine?_ "Um, how are you today?" he asked, willing himself to be civil. "Nick told me you were a little – uh –"

 

"Wasted? Plastered out of my _mind_? Yeah, I'm never drinking Jack Daniels ever again." Kurt could hear the shiver in Blaine's voice.

 

"Listen, about what Rachel said …" Kurt started, but Blaine cut him off.

 

"If you don't mind, I _really_ don't want to talk about what Rachel said, Kurt."

 

"Okay, we don't have to, but I'm so _sorry_ , Blaine, I hope you know I'd never encourage her to say things like –"

 

"No," he said softly. "No, she made it very clear that was all coming from her. But I do need to talk to you about something that isn't that …"

 

Kurt blinked three times, slowly. "Yes?"

 

A breath, and it sounded like Blaine was trying to inhale all the air in the world into two too-small lungs. "I want to have coffee with you."

 

A body couldn't handle so many emotions at once. Kurt told himself that was why his eyes were welling, why his stomach jumped. "Blaine, please," he said, closing his eyes, "please, if you're showing up with divorce papers, you have to let me know now."

 

"Div- really? Kurt, no, not at all. Please, _please_ don't worry about that. It's just more of an in-person conversation, and –" He paused. "And I miss you."

 

 _Oh god, don't cry. Do not_ cry _, Kurt …_ "I miss you, too."

 

"So … coffee?"

 

"Where, at Bean Me Up?" Kurt asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, making a valiant effort to compose himself so his voice wouldn't sound so watery.

 

"No – no, I don't want to be where people know me."

 

" _What_?"

 

"I mean," Blaine quickly tried to recover, "god, that didn't sound how I meant it. I don't want anyone listening to our conversation. If Wendy or Braxton is there, they'll just make assumptions, and I want to be able to talk with you without being interrupted."

 

"Okay," Kurt said, dizzy with too many feelings, like Blaine had locked him in the cab of an emotional Tilt-A-Whirl. "What about the Starbucks on 2nd and 9th, then? And we can walk and talk, maybe?"

 

"That sounds great. When do you want to meet?"

 

"Soon." There was no way Kurt was waiting more than a few hours to find out what this was about. "You know I'm not good with anticipation, Blaine."

 

"Okay. That's – good, yeah, soon. Um – what about two this afternoon?"

 

Kurt glanced at the clock, which read 10:30. It would leave him plenty of time to get ready. "Two's fine."

 

"Great! And, um – I know this is a lot to ask," Blaine hesitated, "but could you bring Romeo? I really miss him …"

 

"Of course I can. He misses you, too." Kurt stopped, hoping what he was about to say wasn't going too far, wouldn't sound like he was _begging_. "He looks for you everywhere."

 

"Really?"

 

 _So do I_. "Really. Mostly at night, before bed. And when we wake up in the morning."

 

"I – I didn't know, I'm sorry –"

 

"Blaine, it's fine." It was anything but fine, but Blaine sounded too out of sorts for Kurt to point that out. "I'll see you at two, okay?"

 

"Yeah, see you then."

 

* * *

 

"Nick?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"What do you wear on a date with your husband that isn't really a date, but where you're planning to beg for forgiveness and tell him that you think both of you need to see a therapist?"

 

"…A bulletproof vest? Or wait, maybe chainmail. Kurt seems more like a traditionalist."

 

"Nick?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"You aren't as funny as you think you are."

 

* * *

 

 _Who could that be?_ Kurt thought silently as he tripped over three pairs of boots on his way to answer his front door. He'd been propelled into action by Blaine's phone call, and was standing in the middle of their bedroom with half of his fall wardrobe laid out on the bed. Come hell or high water, he would look perfect when he met with Blaine that afternoon.

 

He was so consumed with visions of ascots dancing in his head that it took him a moment to react when he opened the door.

 

There stood Rachel, tears in her eyes, and a small cake box in her hands. "Someone very wise once told me that cake is the cure for loneliness. I don't know if you can eat it, but … here." She held the box out to him.

 

"Rach –"

 

"I know you asked me to leave," she said, her voice quavering, "and I know I said really, really awful things, but Kurt, I'm so sorry. I never meant any of it. I don't want you to be on your own."

 

He tipped his head and sighed. "Well, I guess it's a good thing you're here," he said, the corners of his mouth quirking upward, "because I'm in the middle of a fashion crisis, and I really need another set of eyes."

 

Rachel smiled a watery smile and he wrapped her in a tight hug, squashing the box between them.

 

"I'm so glad you came back," he whispered in her ear.

 

"How could I leave you? New York's not New York without you."

 

He buried his nose in her hair and forgave her for everything she'd said the night before, for everything she'd said to Blaine. It wasn't the first fight they'd ever had and it wasn't the first time that Rachel had spoken before she'd thought, but they'd been through worse fights before, and they'd probably have worse fights again.

 

"What kind of cake did you bring me?" he asked when they'd finally parted.

 

"It's a chocolate chiffon cake. I thought it would be nice and light, but still comforting."

 

Kurt smiled. "Well, it's worth a shot. Let's crack it open, and then you can help me decide what to wear when I meet Blaine for coffee in a couple hours."

 

The look on Rachel's face was almost worth all the tears that Kurt had shed over the last day and a half. "Coffee? With _Blaine_? _When were you planning on telling me this?_ " She pushed past him, setting the cake on the table, and sat in a chair. "Um, details, please."

 

"Well, I don't know exactly what it's about, but he called about an hour ago …"

 

* * *

 

Blaine tugged at the hem of his t-shirt as he approached the 2nd street Starbucks. He'd worn himself out trying to find the _perfect ensemble_ , Kurt's words, Kurt's area of expertise, and god, it wasn't like he needed to make a first impression – why was the pressure so be perfect so _intense_?

 

Eventually after driving both himself and Nick _crazy_ with the wardrobe changes, he finally decided that a stripped-down version of himself was best. No airs, no masks, no sleight of hand or bow tie – just Blaine, a pair of jeans, a snug blue t-shirt and a soft, navy cardigan. If he wasn't enough for Kurt, his clothes certainly weren't going to be.

 

He picked at a thread on his sleeve as the nerves started churning – in one conversation, he could make or break his entire marriage.

 

The nerves, however, dissipated into sheer joy when he heard a few short little barks, and a lot of excited whining from down the street.

 

"Romeo –" he heard Kurt say harshly, and in a flurry of jingling tags, the little dog somehow pulled his leash from Kurt's hand and darted toward him. Blaine crouched down in the middle of the sidewalk and held his arms out, his head getting nearly pummeled by the knee of a man in a suit and a hurry.

 

He hadn't realized how much he missed Romeo until he was there, panting in his arms and licking all over his face.

 

"Well, it looks like someone's had a happy reunion," Kurt said, his hair a little ruffled from jogging over to them. "I _am_ glad that man didn't bowl you over – I'd hate to never have this conversation because of a freak head injury." Blaine looked up to see a small smile on his face.

 

"Hi."

 

"Hi yourself." Kurt paused, looked down, cringed a little. "I over-dressed."

 

"No, no, I just look like a slob," Blaine said, standing with Romeo in his arms, taking in Kurt's fitted plum suit and gray button-down, adorned with a simple slim black tie. "You look fantastic, as usual." _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , he internally scolded himself – he should've at least gone with a bow tie. Stripped down version of himself – how dumb could he be, really?

 

"Blaine, you do not look like a slob." Kurt reached out and brushed his fingers over the soft sleeve of Blaine's sweater as longing flashed in his eyes. "I love this sweater."

 

"I know," he said quietly, scuffing his shoe on the ground as a tiny glimmer of hope began to smolder in him like an orb of light. "Want me to grab our coffee while you wait with Romeo?"

 

"I'll get it," Kurt offered. "I think he's glued to you, anyway."

 

Blaine let himself bury his face in Romeo's fur as Kurt walked away and didn't even mind when his ears got licked. "Don’t tell Papa," he whispered, "but I brought a pack of your favorite treats with me today."

 

A few minutes later Kurt emerged from Starbucks bearing two coffees. Blaine put Romeo down, holding onto his leash, and the three of them settled into a leisurely pace down the sidewalk. "So," Kurt said, "would you like to tell me what this is about?"

 

Blaine looked at the ground. He'd rehearsed a speech, gone over and over it in his head, but it felt wrong, contrived. He was with _Kurt_. They didn't really do rehearsed speeches anymore; they spoke honestly to each other – or they used to. And maybe he didn't have a need for a speech after all…

 

"You know that rock bottom thing that people talk about?" he asked quietly after a long pause. "I think I've reached it."

 

"Oh, Blaine …"

 

"No, no, it's okay," Blaine said, and for the first time in a while, the words felt true. "I think – I'd really like to start finding my way back up."

 

"Well when you figure out how, will you give me some hints?" Kurt asked. "I think I'm stuck down there with you."

 

They fell out of step for a moment as Romeo darted off after some smell, yanking on his leash, and Blaine flinched at the awkward silence that fell between he and Kurt as they tried to synch their strides again.

 

"I had this – epiphany, I guess?" he said after a moment. "I'm just so tired. Can we agree, at least for today, to tell each other the truth? All of it?"

 

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Sure. No holds barred?"

 

"No holds barred," Blaine agreed. They came upon a bench, and Blaine slowed, patting the back of it with his hand. "Sit?"

 

Kurt did.

 

"So – obviously I haven't been dealing with anything very well since June," Blaine said, fiddling with Romeo's leash.

 

Kurt grunted, and Blaine tried to think of what to say next _._ "The truth is, I haven't been dealing with anything at _all_ since June. I just keep pushing everything down, or away, and I've felt more and more like a pressure cooker lately. Two days ago I just kind of … snapped."

 

"Two days ago – when Rachel saw you?"

 

"Yeah. She was a little, um, _harsh_ in her honesty …" Her words played over and over like a broken record in his head. _What kind of a husband does that? He's killing himself, and you're letting him._

 

"I know. I'm so sorry for that, I never told her to say –"

 

"I never thought you did. But whether you told her to say it or not, she was right." Blaine sighed. His hand was twitching on his thigh – his fingers needed to be threaded with Kurt's, his fingers were _used_ to be threaded with Kurt's after so many years, but …

 

He wouldn't allow himself that privilege anymore. Not without Kurt's permission. Not after everything he'd done.

 

" _All_ of it was true, Kurt. Every word she said. I just couldn't handle it anymore. So I drank myself into oblivion and didn't give a shit if I woke up or not."

 

Blaine heard the breath that Kurt sucked in, felt Kurt's hand alight on his bicep.

 

"And now?" Kurt asked, his voice measured, careful. "Do you give a shit now?"

 

"I do. I really, really do."

 

"Oh, thank god," Kurt breathed, looking at the ground as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I couldn't –" His voice broke, and he took a breath, then looked at Blaine again with fierce, shining eyes. "If you weren't _here_ , Blaine, if you –"

 

"No, no, it wasn't like that," Blaine said, shaking his head as he tried to explain. "I didn't – I wasn't ever suicidal. I just gave up, sort of. I was so _tired_. But after I sobered up, I realized how fucking _miserable_ I am, and have been since June. I'm sick of it. And I think the only way for me to not be miserable anymore is to suck it up and get some help."

 

It was very evident that Kurt was still trying not to cry, from the way he was holding the bench so hard his knuckles were white. "Good," he said, his voice thick. "Good, that's good, I – please, Blaine, _please_ promise me that you won't ever give up like that again. Because – please, it's just – both of us can't give up at the same time, and –"

 

Blaine's heart stuttered like a broken engine. "Wait, you – no, Kurt, don't say that, you can't –"

 

"You _left_ me, Blaine!" Kurt cried, his face twisting. "You're not _here_ – what am I supposed to do?"

 

"I – I don’t know," Blaine said softly, biting the inside of his cheek. "I'm so sorry. I'm _so_ sorry, but – I'm trying to get back to you. I'm getting help. And – I'd really like for you to get some, too. Will you – would you go? See a counselor?"

 

Kurt sighed, swinging his head back so that he was looking towards the sky. "Honestly, if the universe isn't trying to tell me something –"

 

Blaine gave him a quizzical look.

 

"I talked to my dad yesterday after crying all night because Rachel walked out – don't ask, I'll tell you about it later," he said, swiping at his wet cheeks with his fingers. Blaine's heart sank – if Rachel had walked out on him, that made twice in two weeks that Kurt had been left alone. No wonder he was giving up. "Anyway," Kurt continued, "I basically told him that I'd lied to him, that neither one of us had been to any kind of therapy. He strongly encouraged me to find somebody."

 

"Would you go?"

 

Kurt shrugged. "Probably."

 

"Well, I think I might have found someone. I was looking online, and there's this lady in Chelsea – her name's Dr. Jacobson. She's a psychotherapist. She deals a lot with LGBT families and does individual and couples' counseling. I thought maybe she could help…"

 

Kurt nodded slowly. "Okay."

 

"Obviously it's your decision, but I – oh, _god_ ," Blaine interrupted himself, realization dawning bright. "Oh _fuck_ , you talked with your dad. That means –"

 

"He knows, Blaine, but he's not mad."

 

"Are you?" Blaine asked. _Somebody_ needed to be mad at him.

 

"I'm – I don't even know what to think," Kurt said. "I never in a million years thought you would walk out on me like that. I'm mad, and I'm _broken_ , Blaine, and –"

 

"I know," Blaine said, feeling miserable again. "I know, I am the biggest _ass_ –"

 

"You're not an ass," Kurt said matter-of-factly. "But you _hurt_ me, and it's going to take me a long time to trust you again."

 

A little flare of outrage rose up in Blaine's stomach – there was a _reason_ he'd left, after all. "Yeah, well, same here," he said, trying not to sound petty. "You did tear down our daughter's nursery without even consulting me first, if you recall …"

 

"No holds barred," Kurt murmured.

 

"No holds barred," Blaine said, his voice a little heated. "I'm still mad, too."

 

"Evidently."

 

They sat staring straight ahead for a while, arms crossed, while Romeo tried to chase a pigeon down the street, straining at his leash.

 

"I'm not just mad, though," Blaine finally acquiesced. "I'm also sorry. I never meant – it was more me, just not being able to be there – it wasn't you as much as it was the nursery."

 

"I know, Blaine," Kurt said, his voice softening. "I'm sorry, too. I – maybe I was wrong to try to fix things. Especially since everything just ended up more broken."

 

Blaine looked at the ground, picturing the pieces of Violet's crib stacked on the floor, an ache rising in his chest. "I'm scared," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

 

"Of what?"

 

"Everything," he sighed. "I don't know. Letting myself be happy again?"

 

"Blaine, that's so sad," Kurt said quietly.

 

"Yeah, well …" Blaine picked up the bottom of his cardigan, played with a button. "Do I really deserve to be? Happy again, I mean."

 

"Of course you do," Kurt breathed, then paused. "I'm scared, too, you know."

 

"What are _you_ scared of?"

 

Kurt looked Blaine straight in the eye. "That you might never come home."

 

Blaine blinked at him. _That_ was what he was scared of? It was so far from the realm of possibility – Blaine didn't want a divorce. He _loved_ Kurt. They were just so broken – _Blaine_ was so broken – he just couldn't be in the same place as Violet's haunting memories, not right now, but that didn't mean –

 

"So this Dr. What's-her-name," Kurt continued as if he'd just told Blaine the weather forecast, "have you made an appointment yet?"

 

"Dr. Jacobson. And not yet," Blaine said, still reeling a little from Kurt's confession. "Kurt – you have to know I'm coming home. I am. I just – I can't be there now, not with –"

 

"I know," Kurt said softly, smiling wryly. "It's my own fault, after all …"

 

"No, Kurt –" Blaine shoved his hands in his hair. "We're getting off-topic. We need to talk about therapy, because that's the only way – I haven't made an appointment because I wanted to talk to you first. What do you think?"

 

"I think, at this point, we don't have a choice. I'm broken, you're broken, we've broken _apart_ …" Kurt sighed. "Can we afford to do both individual and couple's counseling? Because my paid time off ran out about a week ago …"

 

"I think so. She takes insurance, and our policy covers mental health. We'll have to meet a deductible, and then we pay twenty percent, so after the five hundred dollars, we'd pay – like $80 a week? For your appointment, my appointment, and our appointment? Plus a little extra each week for our MetroCards?"

 

"You're serious about this."

 

"I am," Blaine said, nodding. "I – I know I've been resistant to going in the past, but I'm just so tired of feeling like this. Screw my dad, says Nick."

 

"Nick says right."

 

Blaine looked down at the sidewalk, chewing on his bottom lip. He thought of all the fights he and his dad had had, all the snide comments he'd thrown, the way he looked at Kurt like he was disgusting. If nothing else, going to therapy would be like extending a really long middle finger all the way to Ohio.

 

"I hate being away from you, you know," Blaine mumbled. "I don't want you to think that I'm _enjoying_ staying on Nick's couch …"

 

"Me too," Kurt whispered. "Sometimes I feel like I can't even _breathe_ without you there, especially at night. But I think you're right. You can't deal with home right now – maybe not with me, either – and I can't worry that you're going to have a bad day and leave me again. I can't worry that you're going to pick up a bottle of liquor and not stop drinking it until it's gone."

 

"Kurt, I'm not –" Blaine cut himself off, frustrated. "You act like I'm an alcoholic, or something. It was a stupid reaction to a really, really awful day. Do you even understand –"

 

"I guess I don't," Kurt said sadly. "You know what breaks my heart the most? I feel like we've forgotten how to talk to each other."

 

"I hope we can remember."

 

"Me too," Kurt said, playing with the end of his tie.

 

"You know what I haven't forgotten though?" Blaine asked slowly as a vision of Kurt, playing with his tie the same way, only younger, more flushed and wearing a gorgeous tuxedo, flashed before his eyes.

 

"What's that?"

 

"That almost six years ago, I promised in front of our friends and our family to love you, no matter what came our way." If he closed his eyes, Blaine could still feel the warmth of Kurt's expression as he slid the ring onto Blaine's finger. He ran his thumb over it and looked at Kurt again. "No matter how mad I am at you, no matter how completely fucked up I am right now, none of that has changed, okay?"

 

Kurt nodded his head, blinking rapidly. "Okay." He took a deep breath and wiped his forefinger underneath his eyes. "Okay." He leaned forward so far that their foreheads and noses were touching. "I never thought that the 'worse' would be quite this bad."

 

"That's why you make vows, I guess," Blaine said, closing his eyes again. "So when the 'worse' gets _worse_ , you still have something solid to fall back on. Something to make you remember why you're doing this."

 

"Do you remember why you're doing this, Blaine?" Kurt breathed.

 

"I do. Because I still have moments when I say to myself, 'Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you forever,'" he whispered, his heart pounding an erratic rhythm in his chest. "Right now would be one of them." He slid his hand over Kurt's cheek, took a breath, and –

 

" _Ahhhh_!" Kurt squealed as Romeo bounded into their laps, his little wet tongue licking all over both their faces. " _Romeo_!"

 

Kurt looked back up at Blaine, but the moment was gone, and as much as Blaine loved his dog, he really, really wanted to strangle him. "Okay, okay, I know you're impatient," he said through gritted teeth as Romeo spun around in his lap. "You wanna take him to the Dog Run?" he asked Kurt with a sigh.

 

"Sure. I brought his ball."

 

"Well, let's go then," Blaine said, still angry about missing the only opportunity for intimacy he'd had with Kurt in weeks. He got up from the bench and started walking down the sidewalk, Romeo straining at his leash.

 

"Blaine –"

 

"Yeah?" he asked, turning around to look at Kurt behind his shoulder.

 

"–Nevermind," Kurt said, casting his eyes toward the ground, but as he did so, Blaine noticed that they looked _alive_ again for the first time in ages.

 

* * *

 

Late that evening, after Blaine had made his first appointment with Dr. Jacobson and was reclining on the couch with a book, he heard Nick laughing loudly in his bedroom.

 

Curious, he got up to see what was so funny – probably some crazy Internet video of cats falling off of things, and after the day he'd had, he could use a little humor.

 

But right as he was about to knock on the door, he stopped. He thought he faintly heard Jeff's voice, though it sounded a little tinny, and listened harder.

 

"You're flying in tomorrow night, then?"

 

"…in at nine o'clock … just 24 hours … my sexy ass!"

 

Blaine turned to walk away, not wanting to eavesdrop, but then Nick said something that made him pause again.

 

"Yeah, they should be better – they talked today, and they're both gonna get some therapy."

 

"Good … can't make it … anybody can." He could only hear snippets of what Jeff was saying, but the message got through.

 

"I know. Blaine was starting to make me lose faith in humanity there for a while – I was so worried about him. I mean, what happened to our happy guy?"

 

"…ever really that happy? Or was it …"

 

Blaine bristled.

 

"I don't know. I'm just glad he seems a little better now. We should try the double date thing again this weekend – I think it'd go better."

 

"…date?"

 

"I mean – not a double _date-_ date – oh, shut up, you know what I meant!"

 

Blaine heard Jeff laughing over the computer speakers. "… just teasing … exactly what you meant … wait to see you."

 

"I know. I can't wait to see you, either. I know you can't fly here every weekend, but …"

 

"Nick … see you. I miss you."

 

"God, I miss you too."

 

On that note, Blaine left and went back to his couch. He sighed heavily – Jeff and Nick, best friends, nothing more, had a better, more intimate relationship than he and his husband did, and they were eight hundred miles apart. And although he was feeling better about his and Kurt's situation, he couldn't help but feel frustrated with how slowly things were progressing.

 

He missed the simplicity of ordering takeout and watching a movie with Kurt, eventually falling asleep on the couch. He missed the way that Kurt knew his ins and outs, the way they could read each other with just a glance. He missed his husband, his confidant, the man who could make him laugh even when he was determined not to. But most of all, Blaine missed his best friend.

 

He pulled the blanket back over his legs and picked up his phone, staring at the screen for a long time before he tapped out a quick text message.

 

**To: Kurt <3**

**I'm glad we got to talk today.**

It was an olive branch extended, and he had no expectation of a reply. But just as he'd opened his book back up, his phone buzzed in his lap.

 

**From: Kurt <3**

**Me too.**

**From: Kurt <3**

**I miss you most at night.**

**From: Kurt <3**

**And I really wish our pesky dog had stayed**

**on the ground for about ten seconds longer**

**earlier today…**

Blaine's breath caught in his throat as he read the words on the screen. The glimmer of hope that had sparked earlier that day grew even brighter.

 

**To: Kurt <3**

**I miss you too. And … honestly, he's lucky**

**I didn't take him to a taxidermist. Maybe**

**you should leave him home next time.**

**To: Kurt <3**

**Will there be a next time?**

_Please, please, please let there be a next time,_ he begged silently.

 

**From: Kurt <3**

**I hope so. I want there to be.**

He sighed, relieved.

 

**To: Kurt <3**

**Good. Me too. Are you going to bed?**

**From: Kurt <3**

**Yeah, in a few minutes. Why?**

Blaine hesitated before typing the next text message, knowing it would break his heart if he didn't get the answer he wanted. He sent it anyway.

 

**To: Kurt <3**

**Goodnight, husband. I love you.**

The reply came almost instantly.

 

**From: Kurt <3**

**Goodnight, husband. I love you, too.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nick's relationship with Jeff grows a little murkier, and Kurt and Blaine don't have it quite figured out, but they're working on it.

**Chapter 23**

**Friday, September 15 th, 2023**

Jeff's heart thud-thud-thudded in his chest as he briskly walked from his plane to the baggage claim area. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, wishing he'd worn something more substantial than a ¾-length sleeved raglan t-shirt. It was freezing in the airport.

 

"Jeff!"

 

He spun around, turning in the direction of his name, and grinned widely as Nick came bounding over to him, nearly tackling him into a hug.

 

"Hi," he murmured into Nick's hair, discreetly inhaling the fresh-smelling shampoo scent, trying not to nuzzle his nose right into it.

 

"Hi yourself," Nick said into his shoulder, his voice muffled.

 

"Thanks for meeting me – I know it's late."

 

"Oh, like I'd let you just go to Kurt's without seeing me first." Nick rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you're here."

 

"Oh my god, me too. I know two weekends in a row might seem like a little much, but I _miss you_ ," Jeff said, squeezing around Nick's back one more time before letting go to grab his suitcase off the belt. "I should just need to move here."

 

"I support that idea a hundred percent," Nick said. "We could be roommates."

 

Jeff got lost in the thought for a moment – waking up, eating breakfast with Nick before they both went off to work, cooking dinner together, sharing beers over movies before bed …

 

"Hey, you still with me?"

 

"Yeah, sorry," Jeff said, running a hand through his already-messy hair. "It was just a long day, and then a long flight …"

 

"No problem. Let's get you to Kurt's and put you to bed, okay?"

 

* * *

 

Jeff fell asleep against the window of the taxi almost as soon as it started moving. In what seemed like no time, Nick was waking him, gently shaking his shoulder.

 

"Jeff? Hey, wake up – we're here."

 

Jeff slowly woke to see Nick grinning at him. "You've got an awesome red mark on the side of your face," he said. "And – hold still, you've got a little –"

 

Jeff swore his heart stopped as Nick gently wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, then wanted to crawl under the seat of the taxi and never come out when he realized that what Nick had wiped away was _drool_.

 

"Uh, thanks," he said, blushing furiously.

 

"Come on, I'll get your bag."

 

There was an awkward tension between them as they stood in the elevator that Jeff had never felt with Nick before, and he was relieved to arrive at Kurt and Blaine's condo. Nick deposited Jeff's bag beside the couch, and Jeff allowed himself to be gathered into a gentle hug. For the second time that night, he had to keep himself from nestling his nose in Nick's soft hair, but he couldn't keep the grin from spreading across his face when Nick bid him goodnight with a peck on the cheek.

 

"Soooooo," Kurt sang as soon as Nick had gone, "how are things on _that_ front?"

 

"He's going to _kill_ me," Jeff moaned, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to his chest as he let his chin sink down into it.

 

"For what?"

 

"No, that's not – _he's_ not going to kill me, I'm just going to die _because_ of him," he clarified, his voice a little muffled by the pillow.

 

"Oh."

 

Jeff shook his head. "We Skype every night. I've been more affectionate with him than normal – I even _flirt_ with him, and nothing. No change. He's still the same Nick he's always been. I mean, you saw him tonight …"

 

"I did. And, to be perfectly honest, Jeff, it didn't look much like a platonic friendship kind of affection to me …"

 

"You think?" Jeff asked, hope blooming in his chest like a daffodil opening toward the sun. "He did ask me to come back after just a week …"

 

"Well obviously I can't tell you for sure," Kurt said, "but I don't think it's quite time to give up on him, yet. Aren't you spending the day with him tomorrow?"

 

"Yep. All day. He's taking me to the Skyscraper Museum," Jeff grinned.

 

"Isn't that the architecture museum?"

 

"It most certainly is."

 

Kurt smiled at him. "Well maybe spending the day with him will give you a better picture of where you stand. But – Jeff, it's clear that he cares about you, and not just on a superficial level. I don't think he'd run the other direction if you told him you'd decided to quit architecture to become an axe murderer."

 

Jeff laughed, his cheeks flushing. "I don't know about _that_ …"

 

"I think I do," Kurt said, raising an eyebrow.

 

"Whatever. I'm not getting my hopes up anytime soon." It was a blatant lie. Jeff's pulse was suddenly pumping to the beat of an electro-dance mix.

 

"Well, suit yourself, but I've never had a friend act like that around me, _especially_ not one who was straight. Or, almost straight. Or whatever he is," Kurt said.

 

Jeff shrugged, trying to calm his heart rate. "Nick's different."

 

"That he is," Kurt said with a smile. "He's a good guy. You'd do well to keep him."

 

"Yeah, well, let's hope I get to."

 

 * * *

**Saturday, September 16 th, 2023**

"…And his face _lit up_ when we got to the mini-models," Nick was telling Blaine, gushing about his and Jeff's trip to the Skyscraper Museum that afternoon. "You should have seen him, it was _adorable_ –"

 

"Adorable, huh?" Blaine said, the pen that he was tapping against the coffee table stilling in his hand.

 

"I mean – god, you know what he looks like when he gets all excited about stuff," Nick said, exasperated at Blaine's insinuation, mainly because he did _not_ mean for that word to escape his mouth. He'd heard it too many times uttered from Blaine's own lips not to understand exactly what it suggested.

 

"Do I?"

 

Nick rolled his eyes. "Whatever. _Anyway_ , it was a good idea, taking him there. I knew he'd love it."

 

"Well, good. I'm glad you had a good time with him," Blaine said with a smile. "Are we meeting up with him and Kurt tonight?"

 

"Yes," Nick said, his excitement building. "We're going _bowling_."

 

Blaine looked at him, a neutral expression on his face. "Really."

 

"Yeah – is that not okay with you?" Nick asked, his smile fading. "We just want you guys to be able to get out and have fun …"

 

"Well," Blaine said casually, resuming his pen-tapping, "I'm actually more worried about whether you'll have fun after I _school_ your ass."

 

Nick stared at him, then broke into a grin. "Is that so?"

 

"Have you ever seen me bowl, Nick?" Blaine asked, dead serious.

 

"Well – no, I don't think so –"

 

"Get ready, then, because my skills will catch the _lane_ on fire."

 

Nick laughed out loud. "We'll see about that."

 

* * *

 

Kurt and Jeff met Blaine and Nick at the subway station at seven that night. Kurt was a little hesitant with Blaine at first, but his husband was in such a good mood that he couldn't help but follow suit, and soon all four of them were laughing and talking as if nothing had ever happened at all.

 

"I can't believe we're going all the way to _Times Square_ to go bowling," Jeff laughed. "Aren't there lanes somewhere closer to the East Village?"

 

"Oh, there are, but you've got to have the _experience_ ," Blaine said. "Back me up, Kurt."

 

"He's not wrong," Kurt said with a smile. "You've probably never bowled like this before. I _hate_ bowling, and even _I_ like coming here. It's like – luxury bowling. Bowling with aesthetics. Even the shoes are halfway decent."

 

The way Blaine grinned at him made every minute of throwing a twelve-pound ball at some stupid-looking pins for several hours worth the misery.

 

Once they'd exited the subway station and were walking among the bright lights of Times Square, Kurt hung back a little, unable to keep himself from staring at Blaine's green chino-clad ass. It was going to be a good night, he thought optimistically. Blaine looked _gorgeous_ in cropped green pants and a blue-checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his forearms. As long as he could stare at them all night, Kurt would throw a stupid, germy neon ball as many times as they wanted him to.

Once the doors of the bowling alley opened and they stepped inside, they were immediately surrounded with loud music and a hard, driving bass line. Nick and Jeff made a beeline for the bar and Blaine moved to follow them, but Kurt caught his arm, his optimism quickly dissolving.

 

"You're drinking tonight? Seriously?"

 

Blaine was clearly annoyed. "Well, I was _planning_ to – I'm out with friends, Kurt, what's it going to hurt? One drink, just a gin and tonic or something –"

 

" _Why_?"

 

"Because I want to have fun for once! I won't get drunk and ruin your night, I promise," Blaine snapped, pulling his arm away and spinning on his heel.

 

And just like that, the promise of the night dissipated, and Kurt hung his head, nursing his disappointed heart yet again.

 

* * *

 

Blaine swaggered back to his seat after scoring his third strike in a row, clapping his hands above his head before swiveling around and dropping into his seat. "And _that's_ how it's done."

 

"Blaine, man, you're making us all look bad," Nick said, taking another swig of his beer.

 

"Yes, Blaine is somewhat of a bowling enigma," Kurt said drily, rolling his eyes. "His score is, on average, about 20 points higher per drink. What are we on now? Two?"

 

"Two, and that's _it,_ Kurt. Will you please get off my back?" Blaine said.

 

"Fine, fine." Kurt held his hands up in surrender. "Jeff, you're up."

 

Jeff marched over with his bright green ball and smirked at Blaine.

 

“You think you're so awesome, let's see you do this.” He turned around backwards and rolled the ball between his legs. They all watched as the ball ambled its way down the lane and hit the pins square in the middle, knocking each and every one of them to the ground.

 

"How do you even _do_ that?" Nick asked, incredulous. He pointed at Blaine. "Can _you_ do that?"

 

"I don't know. I've never tried. That was pretty impressive, Jeff …"

 

Jeff gave a little curtsy before sitting back down.

 

“So what your statement _should_ have been, Nick, is that Blaine and Jeff are just making _us_ look bad...” Kurt sighed and got his bowling ball. He was trying to have fun, he really was. He'd _promised_ himself that he'd have fun. But between Blaine's almost-empty glass and Kurt's embarrassingly bad bowling game, he really wasn't enjoying himself very much.

 

He didn't put much effort into his turn, and the ball thunked onto the floor and rolled straight into the gutter.

 

"Come on, Kurt," Jeff said, nudging his shoulder when he sat back down. "Perk up a little."

 

"Don't bother – he's mad at me," Blaine said, tossing back the last swallow of his drink.

 

"Blaine –"

 

"No, seriously. I have two drinks, and –"

 

Kurt sighed heavily. "Yeah, and you said you were only having one."

 

"So is it your job to police me now?" Blaine said, raising his voice a little.

 

"I'm not doing this with you. Especially not here," Kurt said flatly, and began unlacing his shoes. "You guys have fun – I'm just being a spoil-sport anyway."

 

"No, Kurt, wait –" Jeff said, placing a steady hand on Kurt's arm as Nick leaned over and whispered something in Blaine's ear.

 

Kurt paused with his fingers still on the laces, watching Blaine look toward the ground. "Okay, fine," he said, "I'm sorry. I just – is it so bad that I want to feel human for _one night_ , Kurt? That I want to have a good time with my friends without feeling like shit for doing it?"

 

"No," Kurt said quietly. "There's nothing wrong with that at all." He grudgingly began to retie his shoes. "I just wish you didn't have to use alcohol to do it."

 

Kurt was quiet for the rest of the game, fading into the background of the conversation. He tried to laugh in the appropriate places, make appropriate comments, but his mind was miles away.

 

At the end of the game, he trailed the rest of them by a hundred points.

 

* * *

 

Blaine's frustration had lessened throughout the game, especially as the alcohol had begun to take effect. After bowling strike after strike, it was hard to be angry, and by the end of the game, he was actually feeling a little remorseful about how much he'd snapped at Kurt. Blaine had tried to stop him, to apologize before they returned their bowling shoes, but Kurt just walked away.

 

"So I think Jeff and I are gonna head to a bar or club or something," Nick said as they were slipping their shoes back on. "Do you guys want to join? Dance a little, let off some steam?"

 

Unsurprisingly, Kurt shook his head. "I'm not up for dancing tonight, sorry."

 

"Me either," Blaine said, hoping to get some time to talk with Kurt on the way home. "But you guys have fun."

 

They waved as Nick and Jeff walked down the street, and Blaine took a deep breath. "Want some company going home?"

 

Kurt shrugged. "If you want."

 

They walked in awkward silence for a while as Blaine fell in step beside him on the sidewalk. Once it was clear that Kurt wasn't going to say anything, Blaine finally spoke up.

 

"I just don't understand why you got so mad. I was hoping tonight would be good – I was hoping I'd get to see you smile at least once …"

 

"I wanted it to be good, too. I just don't want to stand by and watch you destroy yourself," Kurt said softly.

 

"Kurt, it was two drinks –"

 

"Which started as one, and turned _into_ two," he snapped, "and could just as easily have turned into three or four or five or god knows what –"

 

"But it didn't," Blaine said.

 

Kurt whipped around to face him. "Do you not recall telling me two _days_ ago that you drank yourself into a stupor and didn't care whether you woke up or not?"

 

Blaine gaped at him. "But that's – I don't feel like that now – it was –"

 

"And how am I supposed to be sure of that?" Kurt asked. "How do I know that you aren't going to go straight back to Nick's apartment and drink another bottle of Jack Daniels?"

 

"Okay, first, I'm never touching that stuff again," Blaine said, his stomach doing an uncomfortable lurch at the mere thought of whiskey. "I've told you that. But – you _don't_ know, I guess. You just have to trust that I won't."

 

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm having a hard time trusting you right now." Kurt hung his head and started walking toward the subway again.

 

"I'd really like to work on that," Blaine said, following him. If fighting tooth and nail was what it would take to get them back to being _them_ …

 

"I'd like to work on it, too. I thought that's what we talked about on Thursday. But until then –"

 

Blaine sighed. "Do you not want me to drink anymore?"

 

Kurt halted in the middle of the sidewalk, peering sideways at Blaine. "You'd stop?"

 

"If it would make you feel better – yes. I'd stop." Blaine was surprised at how serious he was when he said it.

 

"Like, forever?" Kurt asked skeptically.

 

"Well, I'd hope that you would eventually trust me enough to have a drink or two every now and then, but if it meant being with you or not …"

 

Kurt blinked at him. "Really?"

 

"I'm not playing around here, Kurt," Blaine said. "I really did just want to relax tonight. I'm serious about getting help, and I'm serious about working things out between us. I just wish it hadn't taken me so long to realize it."

 

Kurt considered this. "Okay," he finally said. "I'm sorry I acted like such an ass tonight."

 

"It's okay," Blaine said with a shrug. "I'm sorry too." He offered his open palm to Kurt, and was pleasantly surprised when he took it. Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand in his as they walked down the sidewalk toward the subway station, feeling Kurt's warmth creep slowly up his entire arm.

 

* * *

 

"Nick – you do know this is a _gay club_ , right?" Jeff said hesitantly as they queued up in front of the bouncer.

 

"Well, _yeah_ ," Nick said, rolling his eyes toward the bright sign broadcasting the words "The Cock" above the front door. "It'd be kind of hard to miss …"

 

"Are you – why are we at a gay club?"

 

"Well you're gay, aren't you?"

 

Jeff looked sideways at him. "Yeah, but –"

 

"But nothing. Do you know how many times you've gone to bars and clubs with me and subjected yourself to half-naked pole dancers and homophobic assholes? I just figured it was your turn to have a little fun for once."

 

"You –" Jeff was a little baffled still. "Let me get this straight. You want to go to a gay club. With me. You know what happens inside gay clubs, right?"

 

Nick shrugged. "I'll be your wingman, if you want. Let me know if you see a guy you like …"

 

Jeff chuckled, then started to laugh, then laughed _harder_. This was ludicrous. This was the universe either showering down blessings and rainbows and unicorns on him, or making his entire life into a joke that was _really_ not very funny. This was –

 

"What's so funny? Do you think I'd be a bad wingman?"

 

"Oh, god, Nick," Jeff said, still laughing, and pulled his friend into a hug. "No, not at all, I just – I really love you, okay?"

 

"I love you too, man," Nick grinned. "I'm really glad we're doing this."

 

* * *

 

"Jeff," Nick said over the loud music as he sipped on his third rum and coke, "you haven't danced with _anybody_. There's nothing wrong with high standards, but –"

 

"Oh my god, _fine_. You want me to dance? I'll dance," Jeff said, sounding a little drunk and a lot exasperated. He got up from his chair, holding onto the table to steady himself, and Nick's eyes followed him to the dance floor, where a very tall, very attractive Latino man grabbed his hand. Nick smiled, happy that Jeff was finally spreading his wings a little. But what Nick wasn't anticipating was the uneasy, almost angry feeling that unfurled deep inside him, swirling in his veins, pumping from his heart to the rest of his body until his toes were curling with it. It felt like a whole hell of a lot more than _phantom pain._

 

He watched the guy's hands travel lower and lower on Jeff's back until they were resting on the very top of his ass, and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when the guy rolled his hips into Jeff's, making Jeff's head roll on his neck.

 

Nick tried to reason with himself as he gulped the rest of his drink in three big swallows. It was just his protective, loyal nature making him feel this way. There was no reason he shouldfeel jealous. He'd been encouraging this for months – he should be happy for Jeff, that he was finally getting out and having fun. He was happy for Jeff. He _was_.

 

Which was why he was so confused when his legs seemed to move of their own volition, propelling him toward the dance floor.

 

" _Hey!_ " he yelled over the blare of the music.

 

Obnoxiously Sexy Latino Guy (which is what Nick's apparently addled brain had nicknamed him, and oh god, _what was happening to him_?) whipped around with a look that clearly read _get the fuck out of here_.

 

Jeff grinned over Latino Guy's shoulder, waggled his fingers in an adorable wave.

 

" _Want to dance_?" Nick yelled again, miming the action in case Jeff couldn't hear him.

 

A look of total shock that came over Jeff's face as he processed what Nick had just said. " _You want to_ dance? _With_ me?" he shouted back.

 

Nick nodded with a satisfied grin, but then panic struck. _Uh oh,_ he thought, _have you ever danced with a guy? Do you even know_ how _to dance with a guy?_

 

Jeff blinked at him. " _Really_?"

 

Obnoxiously Sexy Latino Guy was growing annoyed with this exchange. " _You wanna dance with that asshole_?" he yelled.

 

"Yes." Jeff's mouth moved, his voice too quiet for Nick to hear, but his answer was clear.

 

If Nick was a bit shaken by this, if he wondered why Jeff was able to answer so quickly, he didn't show it. He walked right into Jeff's open arms as Latino guy rolled his eyes and stalked off toward the bar.

 

The "dancing," if one could call that what they were trying to do, was terribly awkward at first, more awkward than anything they'd ever done together. As tactile as they normally were, they just couldn't figure out how to make their bodies fit together on the dance floor, and Nick was internally smacking himself for coming up with the worst idea in _history_ just because some guy was macking on his best friend.

 

But after a few minutes, after some tense laughter and a near-miss where Nick could have easily broken Jeff's nose with his forehead, Jeff just laughed fondly and shouted, " _Why don't you turn around_?"

 

And Nick did.

 

He closed his eyes as Jeff's arms slid around him, his back pressed close to Jeff's chest. He was a little dizzy, a little drunk and a little bewildered if he was being honest, but none of that compared with the _warmth_ he felt. It shouldn't have felt like that, he thought, quiet and intimate amid the pounding bass line that made his very bones vibrate, but Jeff's arms felt safe. Jeff's arms felt like home.

 

"There," Jeff said, only for Nick, his breath ghosting over Nick's ear, "just relax, and let yourself move." A shiver ran down Nick's spine as a little lock of Jeff's hair tickled his face, and he realized just how close they were. But he did as Jeff said, taking a deep breath, letting it out, then relaxing against Jeff's long, thin frame behind him.

 

Soon they were rolling their hips in time with the music, and Nick tried not to think about his blood pooling in places it shouldn't have been pooling as his hand meandered its way up behind Jeff's neck. It was delight he'd never felt before, being held against someone, moving rhythmically with them, the whole world disappearing. He'd never danced like this with anyone, not Caroline, not any other girl before her. He moved his hand from Jeff's neck up into his hair and felt Jeff suck in a gasp of air as his head dropped close to Nick's shoulder.

 

"Nick," he said, using a low tone that Nick had never heard before, and it was maybe a good thing he hadn't the way Nick's body reacted to it. "You're a really good dancer."

 

"Thank you," Nick murmured, tipping his head back to make sure Jeff could hear him, and – oh _god._

 

Jeff had dropped his head further, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin in the curve of Nick's neck, and Nick's hand gripped tighter to the back of Jeff's head as he gasped.

 

"Nick –" Jeff murmured, and – _oh **god**_ **,** Jeff was kissing his mouth.

 

They were so soft, Jeff's lips – Nick was surprised at how soft they were, and he tried to remember in the seconds that seemed like hours if he'd ever seen Jeff use lip balm before. Jeff's pouty bottom lip dragged over Nick's, and he inhaled sharply through his nose, his neck craned uncomfortably, but he absolutely did not care. He should have been freaking out, he should have been having an existential crisis or something, but that could be saved for later. Because this, _this –_

 

"Oh, god," Jeff croaked, pulling away and covering his mouth with one of his hands. "Oh my god I'm sorry –"

 

 _For what_? Nick wanted to ask, but felt there could be better uses of his time, and he spun around, grabbed the back of Jeff's head, and pressed his lips against his best friend's again. Jeff moaned against him, and if he didn't have a hard-on before, well …

 

Their lips parted in some sort of serendipitous synchrony, and as their tongues touched for the first time, Nick forgot the club, the music, the mass of writhing, moving bodies around him. He forgot everything he ever knew, and replaced it all with the feel of Jeff's lips against his, of Jeff's tongue licking into the dark recesses of his mouth.

 

He wasn't sure how long it lasted, he wasn't sure Jeff knew either, but at some point they broke apart, Jeff's face bright red, a smile stretching over it.

 

"Hi."

 

"Hi," Jeff said, laughing, then covering his face with his hands. "I can't believe I did that. I – I think I am not entirely sober."

 

Nick grinned at him. "Let's go outside," he said, nodding toward the door.

 

Jeff grabbed his hand, beaming like a child.

 

But once they were outside, after the door had closed and the music was muffled, Nick's ears pounding with the absence of the noise, the reality of what they'd just done hit him like a ton of bricks.

 

"So," Jeff said, still smiling.

 

"So …" Nick's heart threatened to beat right out of his chest. He would never, ever, _ever_ hurt Jeff, but he needed some space, a few minutes to think.

 

Jeff sensed his hesitance, and his smile faded. "I'm sorry – I, uh, got a little carried away –"

 

"No, it's – don't be sorry," Nick said, trying to take care with his words. "Seriously don't. But – this needs to marinate, maybe? I just – I, um …"

 

"You need to figure out if this was a drunk thing or a thing that you actually wanted?" Jeff supplied. "Or a thing that I pushed you into?"

 

"Hey, hey, you didn't push me into anything," Nick said, his heart breaking as Jeff's eyes deadened. "And I'm not that drunk. I just – I need –"

 

"You need me to leave?" Jeff asked, looking impossibly sad.

 

"No!" Nick exclaimed, grabbing hold of his arm. "No. I do not. I just need to go home, and think, and sleep, and we need to talk about this tomorrow, okay?"

 

Jeff nodded, and Nick could see tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "I just – god, I'm an asshole for even saying this, but it could be the last time I ever get to and I just – please, just one more? _Please_?"

 

Nick didn’t think it was possible to refuse Jeff anything, especially not when his voice was thick with tears. He never answered, just stepped into Jeff's space and, grasping his face in what he hoped weren't clammy hands, lifted himself onto his tip-toes and pressed his lips to Jeff's for a third time that night. The kiss was sweet, and, while it wasn't nearly as intense as the two that happened inside the club, it was uncomfortable and shocking to think about how good it felt, how much he wanted it, how much he wanted more than just the one.

 

"Hey – we're okay, alright?" he said when they broke apart, still cupping Jeff's face in his hands. "We're fine. I just need to think." Jeff nodded, his eyes closed, clearly holding back tears. "We're _fine_ ," Nick repeated, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "We'll talk tomorrow, I swear, okay?"

 

"Okay," Jeff said, taking a deep breath and wiping his eyes.

 

It was quiet in the cab Nick hailed, heavy tension filling the air. But Nick couldn't bear to hurt Jeff any more than he already had, so he lay his hand down on the middle seat in between them, and when Jeff slotted their fingers together, Nick pulled Jeff's hand up to his lips and kissed his knuckles, one by one. They held hands the remainder of the way home.

 

* * *

 

Jeff exhaled slowly as he sank to the floor, his back against the door to Kurt and Blaine's condo. His head was swimming, and not just from the alcohol.

 

"So, how'd it go?"

 

Jeff jumped like he'd been shot, unaware that Kurt was lying on the couch, the charcoal gray quilt from his and Blaine's bedroom pulled up around his shoulders.

 

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jeff said, willing his voice not to shake. "I thought you would've been in bed by now."

 

"I told you before, I can't sleep," Kurt said, stretching his arms above his head. "So tell me – how'd it go?"

 

"I either completely blew it or totally scored," Jeff said, miserably dropping his face into his hands. "And I have no idea which it is."

 

"What happened?"

 

"I kissed him."

 

Kurt sat up, his hair sticking out at odd angles. "Oh. Come sit."

 

Jeff did, and startled at the first touch of Kurt's fingertips. Kurt didn't usually _touch_ people, but he was grateful – the circles Kurt was rubbing on his back and the silence that surrounded them was comforting, gave him time and space to think. He should've been thinking about a plan of action, what the _hell_ he was going to do now, but he couldn't stop thinking about the feeling of Nick's lips – they were _perfect,_ he already knew that from the times that Nick had pecked him on the cheek, but he had no idea how intoxicating they could be. He lifted his hand, running his forefinger over his own lips, still tingling from the kiss goodnight that Nick had surprised him with.

 

"He kissed me back."

 

"Oh." Kurt said, his voice neutral. "Well – that's promising, right?"

 

"I hope so." Jeff sighed, remembering Nick's hesitant behavior right after they exited the club. He shouldn't have been surprised. He did completely blindside his friend by making out with him in the middle of a dance floor, but Nick was the one who'd come to dance with him, Nick was the one who'd taken him to a gay club in the first place, Nick was the one who kissed him back – "I wish I knew what he was thinking."

 

"Did you talk about it?" Kurt asked.

 

Jeff shook his head. "Not tonight. Nick said that he needs to think, that he'll meet me tomorrow. And then he kissed me goodnight. You know, no mixed signals or anything –"

 

Kurt smiled. "What was it like?"

 

"Not to be melodramatic or anything, but it completely rocked my world, kissing him," Jeff said with a wry grin.

 

"I know the feeling. I remember when Blaine and I kissed for the first time – he was so adorable, he had this speech prepared and everything. I just remember the world feeling like an entirely different place after I knew what his lips felt like."

 

They were quiet for a while longer, Kurt's hand stilled on Jeff's back. Jeff could tell that he was thinking about Blaine, missing him. "He changed your life." It wasn't a question.

 

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. He did." He paused. "Before I met him –"

 

"You were alright?" Jeff interrupted with a grin.

 

Kurt smacked his arm, but still intoned, "But things were kind of heavy – he brought me to life."

 

"Now every February, he'll be your Valentine?"

 

Kurt's eyes filled with tears. "God, I hope so." He paused. "Can I be completely honest with you, for just a minute?"

 

"Go for it."

 

Kurt stared at him, his eyes big and sad. "I don't think I know how to live without him. I honestly don't know if I'll be able to do it. Like – you will have to pack me up and send me home to my dad, and even he might have to end up institutionalizing me. I just – he's my _life_ , you know?" His voice cracked and his face contorted as he tried to keep from crying. "But I'm sorry," he said, sniffling, breathing through it, "we were weren't talking about me."

 

"Kurt, no, it's fine," Jeff said, now rubbing _Kurt's_ back. "I can't imagine –"

 

Kurt smiled through his tears. "But you _can,_ I think, if you love Nick as much as you say you do."

 

Jeff nearly broke at that statement, pulling Kurt forward and squeezing him tight. "I don't want to think about losing him like that. If I – oh, god, Kurt – what did I do?"

 

"You took a chance," Kurt mumbled into his shirt. "I hope yours pans out better than mine did." He paused, then turned his head to the side, resting it on Jeff's shoulder. "You don't have to if this is weird, but can you just – stay for a while? Just like this? It's been so long since somebody's held me –"

 

"Kurt, of course I will," Jeff murmured, squeezing him a little tighter. "Hell, after tonight, I think we could both use some platonic cuddling. Do you want to get in the bed? Not like – I swear I'm not –"

 

"No, no, it's fine," Kurt said. "It's easier for me to sleep when somebody's there, anyway."

 

Jeff nodded and stood up, offering his hand to help Kurt up as well. "It's gonna be fine, you know," he said as he curled up in the spot where Blaine should have been. "He'll come back."

 

"I hope so," Kurt whispered. "But I'm really glad you're here now. Thank you, Jeff."

 

" _Shhh_ , just sleep," Jeff breathed, tucking his arm around Kurt's abdomen and settling back on the pillow himself. He stared at the ceiling as Kurt's breathing grew slower and slower and tried to take his own advice.

 

* * *

 

Nick eased his door open slowly, his eyes trying to adjust to the dark apartment. He flicked on the kitchen light, trying to cast at least a little glow so he wouldn't trip over anything and kill himself, but keeping it dark enough that Blaine wouldn't be startled.

 

"Blaine?" he said softly, hovering over his friend's softly snoring form. "Blaine, come on, man, wake up."

 

"Huh?" He started awake, pushing himself into a half-sitting position. "What? What time is it? What's going on?"

 

"I'm sorry," Nick said, sinking down on the couch with him. "I know it's late – it's like two-thirty? I'm just – I'm kind of having an existential crisis, here, and I feel like I need some insight."

 

"A – you're having a _what_?"

 

Nick sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "Jeff kissed me tonight at the club."

 

"He _what_?" Blaine said, shaking his head as if to clear the sleep away.

 

"He kissed me, I kissed him back, and now I'm having a crisis. Of existence. Or sexuality. Or – something, I don't even know." Nick sighed a huge sigh, and planted both palms over his face. "In other words, I'm kind of freaking the fuck out."

 

"Okay." Blaine wiped a hand over his face, and sat up all the way. "Okay, run this by me again. Jeff kissed you, and you kissed him back and now – what, you think you're gay or something?"

 

"I –" Nick paused. "I don't know that I've ever been entirely straight. Like – I'm mainly attracted to girls, but the idea of kissing guys doesn't turn me off. Obviously. I think some guys are attractive. I've had crushes on guys before – I always used to call them man-crushes –"

 

"Like Jeff?"

 

"No, Jeff's different. Jeff's – well – he's _Jeff_ ," Nick said, as if that would explain anything.

 

Blaine blinked at him. "So you're bi, then."

 

"I … guess? Or pansexual? Or – heteroflexible? Is that even a thing? I haven't got a clue."

 

"I … am confused," Blaine said, blinking some more.

 

"Join the party."

 

"You – like Jeff."

 

"I actually – I've been really confused about my feelings for him for a while now. Like, since before Caroline and I broke up."

 

" _Really_?" Blaine said, a completely befuddled expression on his face.

 

Nick laughed. "What exactly did you think those freak-outs about how much I _shouldn't_ miss him were?"

 

Blaine stared at him, mouth agape. "I – am _really_ dense about these things, aren't I?"

 

"You said it, not me." Nick shrugged. "Now, getting back to the topic at hand –"

 

"Right, right, sorry."

 

"So, like – how exactly do you determine your sexuality? Can it – can it change? I just – god, I'm 29 years old – shouldn't I have already _had_ this crisis if I was going to have it?"

 

"Some people don't figure out their sexuality until later in life, Nick – and I don't think that that's what you need to worry about right now," Blaine said, tugging the blanket around his knees as he sat cross-legged on the couch. "What did you tell Jeff? I think he's your priority right now."

 

"That I need some time to think," Nick groaned. "God, did I fuck everything up before it ever went anywhere? I think he really likes me. I don't want to hurt him – you should've seen the way he was looking at me, Blaine, his whole freaking face just lit up – oh my god, he's never going to look at me again like that, is he?" The words tumbled out of his mouth as fast as he was thinking them.

 

Blaine placed a steady hand on Nick's arm. "I think you're getting ahead of yourself. Just – how do you feel about him? Let's start there."

 

Nick sighed. That was a tall order, explaining his relationship with Jeff – it was a complicated, convoluted thing based on love and respect and trust and a lot of history, glued together with a mutual love of art and music and microbreweries. "Jeff is –" he started, then stopped again. "He's _Jeff_. He's one of the kindest people I've ever known. He's quiet until you get to know him, and then he just opens up like he's blooming or something. He –"

 

"You're telling me _about_ Jeff. Tell me how you _feel_ about him," Blaine gently prodded.

 

Nick pondered this. "He's my best friend," he said slowly. "I have more respect for him than I have for anyone else in my life. I think he's really witty, and –" He stopped to think for a moment, memories flashing through his mind like a film reel. "He makes me a better person," he said, images of all the times that Jeff had dragged him to the nursing home in Westerville to sing with the residents there flashing before his eyes. "He's brilliant in ways that I can't even explain," he said, pride flaring in his chest as he remembered Jeff's first groundbreaking for the first project he piloted at his firm. "He's just – he's so easy to be around."

 

The film reel memories kept playing.

 

He and Jeff, sitting atop his kitchen counters in his apartment in Chicago, eating out of Chinese takeout boxes.

 

A faceful of sand, Jeff's laughter ringing in his ears, after he'd tackled him to the ground on their Spring Break beach trip their junior year in college.

Jeff holding him, his nose pressed into Nick's hair like he always did, after Nick had found Caroline in his bed with another man.

 

The neon lights of the club that night, Jeff's breath heavy on his neck, his fingers tangled in Jeff's shaggy, sweaty hair.

 

"He's my favorite person," Nick continued, resurfacing at the present. "If I were to get trapped on a desert island, he'd be my survival buddy. And," he said, flushing crimson, "he's a really _fucking_ good kisser."

 

Blaine raised his eyebrows at him, a little smile on his face.

 

Nick tucked his knees up to his chin and thought. He thought about the crater in his heart that had been there since he'd moved away from Chicago, that was suddenly and wholly filled whenever Jeff came to visit. He thought about the ease in which they Skyped, almost like they were side-by-side even when they were miles away. He thought about Caroline, how he thought he loved her, but how she never ‘got’ him like Jeff did. How much they squabbled over little, stupid things, when he and Jeff had only ever had two fights in fifteen years. How her touch felt different than Jeff’s – blander, less meaningful. How cold she got when Jeff was around. It was just his protective, loyal nature making him feel this way, and yet he’d hung onto Jeff's every word for fifteen, since the day they met. How much prettier Jeff’s eyes were than Caroline’s, than any other girl’s he’d ever dated.  
  
Maybe he’d only dated girls because it was easier, because he still _liked_ them, even if he didn’t love them. Maybe he’d been in love with Jeff the entire time.  
  
Nick's eyes widened. "Fuck, I'm in love with him, aren't I?"

 

"I don't know, Nick," Blaine grinned. " _Clearly_ I am not the person to ask."

 

"Oh my god." Nick zoned out, feeling the tingles from where Jeff had kissed him all the way to his toes again. "Oh my god – I think I might be."

 

"Well – is that good? I mean, you said he was a good kisser, so obviously you've got some compatibility –"

 

"I've never had a kiss like that in my life," Nick said, shaking his head. "Not from Caroline. Not from any of my girlfriends. Not from any guy I ever kissed. I just – nothing could hold a candle to him."

 

"Well, Nick, let's see – he's your best friend, he makes you happier than anybody, you'd be stuck on a deserted island with him, and he kisses like _that,_ I'd say you've found your perfect match," Blaine said, still smiling.

 

"This is just – it's kind of blowing my mind," Nick said, rubbing over his temples with his forefingers. "I don't know –"

 

"What don't you know, exactly?" Blaine asked. He almost sounded agitated. "Because let me tell you, speaking from experience – once you catch hold of a good thing, you don't let it go."

 

"Then why are you sleeping on my couch?" Nick asked, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

 

Blaine crossed his arms defensively. "You know why I'm sleeping on your couch, Nick. You also know that I _haven't given up yet_."

 

"I know, I know, I'm sorry – I didn't mean that," he said apologetically. "I'm just a little – overwhelmed?"

 

Blaine took a breath. "It's okay. I – overwhelmed is something I can appreciate."

 

"It's just kind of a big deal?" Nick said, twisting his hands together nervously. "Like, thinking you've been one way your whole life and figuring out that you might be another? And putting a lifelong friendship in jeopardy because of it?"

 

"Judging by Jeff's reaction, I doubt you're jeopardizing his feelings for you…"

 

Nick nodded. "Okay. You're right. Maybe I just need to sleep on it?"

 

"That's probably the best thing you could do. I'm here if you need me, man," Blaine said, laying back on the couch and pulling his blanket back up under his chin. "Sorry I got a little testy there."

 

"I can't say I really blame you," Nick said. "Night."

 

"Night," Blaine answered, and Nick trudged back to his bedroom for what he knew would be a very, very long several hours of tossing and turning.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nick and Jeff figure some things out, and Kurt and Blaine move one step back and two steps forward.

**Chapter 24**

 

**Sunday, September 17 th, 2023**

Light was streaming through Kurt's bedroom window as Jeff slowly blinked himself awake, tucking his chin down further into Kurt's shoulder. He made a sleepy little noise and shifted around, tucking Kurt closer to his chest. He was almost back to sleep when –

 

"Aaauuugggh!" he exclaimed, a cold, wet nose and a slimy tongue attacking his face.

 

Kurt bolted upright, nearly knocking Jeff in the nose with his elbow. "Romeo! Stop it, _stop_ , off, off, off!" he scolded, pulling the fluffy white dog off of Jeff's chest. He and Jeff looked at each other and started laughing.

 

"Sorry, he's a little enthusiastic in the mornings," Kurt apologized, petting Romeo's head.

 

"I don't think it's morning anymore," Jeff said, pulling his phone off of Blaine's nightstand to look at the screen. "It's – oh my god, Nick texted me!"

**From: Nick**

**Come over to my place in about half an hour or so?**

**Blaine said he'd vacate so we could talk.**

"Oh my god, he sent it an hour ago – shit, I'm late, he's going to _hate_ me –"

 

"Jeff, calm down," Kurt laughed. "He knows you guys were out late last night. Just call him and tell him you'll be there soon."

 

"You call him!" Jeff exclaimed, tossing the phone to him. "I have to shower!" Kurt continued to laugh as he stumbled out of the bed, getting stuck in the covers that he was cocooned in. Finally he freed himself from the offending linen sheet and threw it on the bed in a pile. "Not funny!" he called to Kurt, who was still laughing. "And call Nick, seriously! Please?"

 

"Fine!" Kurt acquiesced as Jeff shucked his shirt, darting into the bathroom.

 

He took the fastest shower he could and still come out clean and dried himself frantically, rubbing the towel through his hair. He ran back out of the bathroom, holding the towel around his waist, to dig through his suitcase.

 

"Kurt, what did he say? What do I _wear_? I didn't plan for this when I packed –"

 

"You," Kurt said, pushing him out of the way of his own suitcase, "need to calm down." He began rifling through Jeff's small selection of clothes. "Here," he said, "Wear these jeans, with … this sweater." He plucked them out of the pile and handed them to Jeff. "Oh, and you might want a pair of these, too," he grinned, throwing a pair of Jeff's boxer briefs at him. "Now get dressed, and I'll accessorize you."

 

Jeff ran into the bathroom, pulling on his underwear and jeans, then hurried back out as Kurt was digging through his accessory drawer. "Nothing too flashy – you still want to look like you," he muttered, picking through scarves and brooches. "What about the fox tail?"

 

Jeff raised his eyebrows.

 

"Okay, no. Umm – oh, what size shoe do you wear?"

 

"A 12 …"

 

"Oh, excellent. Wear these boots – zip them, but don't fasten the buckles – and …" he paused, rifling through his closet. "This jacket. And if you spill anything on it I swear to god I will make you pay my utilities from now till next July to make it up to me, understand?"

 

"Um – yeah." Jeff pulled a white t-shirt on before pulling his sweater over his head. "So – did you talk to Nick?"

 

"He said not to rush. Eat breakfast. Take your time."

 

"How am I supposed to _eat_ right now?" Jeff asked, throwing his hands in the air.

 

"Well, that sentiment I actually understand. But can I at least make you a cup of coffee? And for heaven's sake, do something with your hair before you go."

 

"Hair. Right. Okay. You are the _best_ , Kurt, I owe you –"

 

"You don't owe me anything," he grinned. "I'm just glad I've got something to be optimistic about. I'll go brew a pot."

 

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes later, Jeff was flying out the door, the coffee he'd chugged sloshing around in his stomach. His hands shook as he briskly walked the four blocks to Nick's apartment, and he almost turned around and walked back to Kurt's before he finally brought himself to hit the buzzer.

 

Nick was sitting on his couch when Jeff let himself in, fidgeting with a rubber band, dark circles under his eyes.

 

"Hey," Jeff said, the air thick with tension. "You okay?" He didn't look okay.

 

"I'm not sure."

 

Jeff's stomach felt uneasy as he sat down on the opposite end of the couch. "I, um – before you say anything, can I just come clean about something? If you'd like me to leave after, I can, but –"

 

"I don't think that's going to happen," Nick said.

 

"Well, you might want to wait until I say it before you make up your mind." He paused, so nervous that he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. "Um – so – I like you, Nick. Like, I _really_ like you."

 

"Yeah – I kind of became aware of that last night." Jeff glanced at Nick out of the corner of his eye, and was surprised to see a little smile on his face.

 

"And I've reallyliked you for a really long time," Jeff admitted.

 

"How long are we talking?" Nick asked.

 

Jeff ran a hand through his hair, probably messing it up beyond repair, but he was just so _nervous –_ "Ummmmm … about fifteen years?"

 

Nick stared, his mouth agape. "Wow. That's – wow."

 

Jeff felt a little like he was going to throw up. "I just – I'm normally better at keeping it close to the vest, but I was a little drunk last night, and you were so close, and I just got a little carried away – I'm so sorry if it freaked you out –"

 

And then his heart stopped, because Nick had scooted closer, gently cupping Jeff's cheek in his hand. " _Shhh_ ," he whispered gently. "What if I told you that it didn't freak me out? What if I said I wanted to kiss you again?"

 

Jeff sucked in a breath. "I think I'd probably be okay with that," he managed, and his eyes slipped shut just as Nick's lips pressed soft against his. He moaned – he couldn't help it, it was just so _good_ – and leaned into it, threading his fingers in Nick's hair. Their lips parted again, and it was Nick this time who licked inside Jeff's mouth, carefully exploring with his tongue. Jeff felt like he was on fire – it was so much _better_ than the night before, without his senses dulled by alcohol and too much noise. He could hear Nick breathing softly through his nose, could feel the strength in his hand where he held Jeff's cheek. He darted his tongue out, sweeping it against Nick's, and this time they _both_ moaned, breaking apart to rest their foreheads against one another.

 

"You don't have to stop," Jeff whimpered.

 

"Actually, I've got a few of my own confessions to make," Nick said with a sheepish grin. "Can we talk first?"

 

Jeff took Nick's hand and held it against his cheek. "Yeah. What do you want me to know?"

 

"Well – I kind of might be falling for you."

 

Jeff stared at him, still holding his hand in place.

 

"I might have _already_ fallen for you, actually," Nick said with a little laugh, casting his eyes down as his neck flushed pink.

 

"You – _what_?" Jeff let go of Nick's hand, his eyes growing wide. "You – you –"

 

"Yeah. It's – kind of been coming on for a while, I think."

 

"But what –" Jeff was completely, unequivocally dumbfounded. He never thought that he'd hear those words – the most he was hoping for was a 'maybe we'll try this out.' "What does 'a while' mean?"

 

"My feelings for you have been a little murky for upwards of like six months now," Nick told him. "But – do you want to know a secret? One I've never told anybody before?"

 

"I'll keep it right here, I promise," Jeff said, picking Nick's hand back up and placing it over his heart.

 

"I had a crush on you when we were fifteen," Nick said softly. "I was so confused about who I liked and who I didn't, and you were so safe –"

 

"I'd had a crush on you for a year by then," Jeff murmured. "I can't believe – I could've …"

 

"Maybe it's better that we didn't, then. We might not have gotten to be friends for as long as we have."

 

It was all Jeff could do to keep from kissing him again.

 

"Anyway," Nick continued, "I was trying to figure out what the hell I liked, so – do you remember that party we had with Crawford County where we got picked to play Seven Minutes in Heaven?"

 

Jeff actually laughed out loud. "Yeah, of course I do. It's so weird that you mention that –I was just thinking about that last week."

 

"Do you remember when I asked you if you'd ever kissed a boy, and you said no, and then you left and got that girl – what was her name? Mary or something. Anyway, do you remember that?"

 

"How could I forget?"

 

"That was –" Nick stopped, blushing furiously. "That was me asking you for a kiss. I – I wanted to know what it felt like, kissing a boy – kissing _you_. Whether I liked it or kissing girls better –"

 

Jeff's eyes widened. "And I walked out on you."

 

"You did," Nick smiled, "and in walked Mary. I was _so_ disappointed, Jeff. But in she walked anyway, and we kissed, and it was fine. But it was nothing – _nothing_ – like what kissing you turned out to be," he said, freeing his hand from Jeff's grasp to run his thumb over Jeff's bottom lip.

 

"But – you've always dated girls –" Jeff sputtered.

 

"Yeah, and I like girls. I don't know if I'm pan, or bi, or what, but – I like what I like, no matter what kind of package it's in. It's just that – you're the only guy I've ever had _feelings_ for, if that makes sense."

 

"I – I think so –"

 

"But those feelings?" Nick said, brushing his fingers over Jeff's cheek again. "Once I realized I had them, I also realized that they're stronger than any feelings I've ever had for anybody. Ever."

 

Jeff shivered under his touch. "How do you know for sure?" he whispered. He was so hesitant to make the leap. If Nick broke his heart, he'd shatter it for good.

 

Nick smiled, his eyes clear and bright, and Jeff believed him before he even opened his mouth. "Because it's _you_ , Jeff. You're my best friend. You're my favorite person. I just – I don't want to be without you. I don't think I realized what a _massive_ part of my life you are until I moved away."

 

"So – what are you saying, exactly?" Jeff asked, wanting to be sure. "What do you want?"

 

"I want us," Nick said, almost shy, looking up at Jeff through his long, dark eyelashes. Jeff was caught, hook, line, and sinker. "I want to try being … an _us_."

 

Jeff felt like all the happiness in the whole world had tried to jump into his chest at once, that his heart would burst with it. "Okay, then," he said, beaming. "Let's try being an us."

 

They met in the middle this time, lips crashing together. Jeff hadn't realized it was possible to grin and kiss at the same time, but they were managing pretty well. He tried to keep himself from laughing against Nick's mouth, but couldn't help it. "You have no idea how happy you just made me," he murmured against Nick's lips, trailing kisses down his neck. As he paused to pay special attention to Nick's pulse point, he felt a strange tightness around his arms – Nick had him halfway out of Kurt's jacket already. "Hang on," he said, blushing, "if this gets ripped, Kurt might literally kill me."

 

"Oh, you're borrowing Kurt's clothes, now?" Nick teased. "I didn't know you'd become so fashion forward!"

 

Jeff blushed. "I just wanted to look nice for you. I wasn't expecting to get a – um – an _us_ out of this weekend when I packed my suitcase."

 

"You would've gotten an us out of this weekend no matter what you wore, Jeff. And, just so you know, _I_ think you always look nice."

 

"Thanks."

 

"You're welcome," Nick grinned. "Now, will you please take off the jacket so I can feel your arms better?"

 

Jeff let out a bark of shocked laughter, but did as Nick asked. He carefully shrugged the jacket off, blanching at the Vivienne Westwood tag that he'd been in too much of a hurry to see earlier, and hung it delicately over the back of a kitchen chair. When he returned, Nick was grinning widely at him.

 

"Hi."

 

"Hi," Jeff smiled back. "So, you're going to think I'm _really_ weird, but can I just do something really fast?"

 

Nick nodded, a little puzzled, and Jeff carefully took Nick's head in both his hands, leaned over, and dug his nose deep into the silky strands. He inhaled deeply, the fresh scent of Nick's shampoo threatening to overwhelm him. His throat felt tight, like he was about to cry.

 

Nick laughed underneath him. "You've been smelling my hair for years," he said. "It's never bothered me before."

 

Jeff pulled back, a little red. "Those were supposed to be covert operations …"

 

"Well, I guess it's a good thing you're not a spy," Nick said with a sly look, tugging Jeff into his lap and kissing him again. Jeff let himself get lost in it, tipping his head slightly to the side, giving Nick full access to his mouth. Nick was gripping his biceps, rubbing his thumbs over the soft material of Jeff's sweater, moaning against Jeff's lips. With each low noise Nick made, a little more blood flowed from Jeff's brain to his groin, and it was soon all he could do to keep from grinding down against Nick's lap.

 

Eventually, Nick broke off with a sigh and pressed his forehead up against Jeff's. "You," he said, his voice soft and gentle in spite of his heavy breathing. "You were right in front of me all along."

 

"I'm still right in front of you," Jeff said, his voice thick with want. "And don't count on me going anywhere anytime soon."

 

"It'd break my heart if you did," Nick breathed, pulling him in for another deep kiss.

 

It was getting to the point where Jeff was feeling sparks all over him, and the jeans that Kurt had suggested that morning were becoming uncomfortably tight. He shifted, his denim-covered cock bumping up against Nick's crotch, and he groaned loudly, then turned bright red.

 

"I'm sorry," he squeaked, pulling back a little. "It's just been a while since – well, since anything, and –"

 

" _God_ , don't apologize," Nick moaned as he ran his hands up and down Jeff's thighs. Jeff's eyes nearly rolled back in his head. "Just – you're gonna have to walk me through some of this. I'm, uh, a little new –"

 

"You need to tell me – and tell me very soon – how much you want me to walk you through today," Jeff said, trying to keep his breathing and his hips under control. "Because –"

 

"Maybe get off my lap and ask me again," Nick said, his head lolled to the side.

 

"Right. Yes. Good plan," Jeff said, reluctantly removing himself from Nick's body. "Okay," he continued when he was a safe distance away. "Now. How far are you comfortable going? I don't want to push you – this is so new, for both of us –"

 

"I – _fuck_ , I want to say we'll go slow, take our time, but – your flight is tonight, Jeff."

 

Jeff felt a little sick. Amid all the emotional ups and downs and backs and forths, he'd completely forgotten about going home.

 

"Fuck it. _Fuck_ it, Nick, I'll use a sick day. I can't – I've been waiting half my life for this," he said, his voice desperate. "I'm gonna call and reschedule my flight for tomorrow night. And then I'm going to fake food poisoning on my boss's voice mail. And then – shit, I've got to call Kurt."

 

Nick's eyes widened. "Wait, you're going back to Kurt's tonight –"

 

"Well of course I'm not, dummy. What would be the point of calling in sick and rescheduling my flight if I wasn't planning to spend the night with you?" A thrill shot down Jeff's spine as the words tumbled out of his mouth, and he grinned, blushing furiously.

 

"Okay," Nick said, tucking his head onto Jeff's shoulder. "We'll take things a _little_ slow. Nothing till tonight, and maybe then we can take one thing at a time? See how things go?"

 

"Sounds good. Except – there's one problem," Jeff said. "What are you going to do with Blaine?"

 

* * *

 

**To: Kurt Hummel**

**Hey man, it's Jeff – don't know if you've**

**got my number in your phone or not.**

**Anyway, don't expect me back at your**

**place tonight** **J**

**From: Kurt Hummel**

**!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**To: Kurt Hummel**

**One small favor though – no offense to**

**Blaine, but we'd rather have Nick's place to**

**ourselves …**

**From: Kurt Hummel**

**On it.**

* * *

 

"Hello, you've reached Rachel Berry, Broadway ingénue and current star of _Funny Girl_. If you're calling about a part, you can contact my agent, Laura Moorehouse, at L-dot-moorehouse at gmail-dot-com. Otherwise, leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you, and have a gold star kind of day!"

 

Kurt rolled his eyes as he waited for the beep.

 

"Rachel Berry, if you do not pick up your phone, I will come after you with the fire of a thousand suns – you owe me a _favor_ , and it is more important than whatever you're doing right now! This is the fifth time I've called – where _are_ you?"

 

An hour later, he had his answer.

 

"Kurt, I didn't appreciate the mean-spirited message I found on my voicemail," Rachel scolded through the phone. "I was getting my bi-monthly mani-pedi, and you know how important that is to me – plus I couldn't answer my phone, my fingers were indisposed when you called."

 

"Alright, I'm sorry, I know – it's just, you _do_ owe me a favor …"

 

"What do you want?"

 

"I need you to let Blaine stay at your apartment tonight."

 

" _What_?" Rachel cried. "Kurt, you know I'm still mad at him!"

 

Kurt frowned at a loose thread on his jacket. "I know, I know, and on my behalf, too – but don't you think you can get over that for one night? You can stay over here, you don't have to even breathe the same _air_ as him. I don't see what the problem is."

 

"Why can't he stay at Nick's?"

 

"Long story," he sighed, "but in a nutshell – Nick and Jeff need some _alone_ time, if you catch my drift …"

 

"Alone – _what_? Nick and Jeff? _Ohhhh_ , a forbidden tryst, I love it –"

 

"What's so forbidden about it, Rachel?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

 

"Well – isn't Nick straight?"

 

"Apparently not as straight as we thought he was … Jeff told me last weekend that he'd been in love with Nick for years, and he just texted me. It's pretty clear that Nick is reciprocating. So, can Blaine stay at your place so they can have a night together, please?"

 

"Does he not want to stay with _you_?" Kurt could almost _taste_ her bitterness.

 

"I didn't ask him. I – Rach, if he stays one night and then leaves again – I can't do that. If he's coming back, I want him back for good, and I just – I'm not ready to accept any less than that. _Please_ just come over here and let him stay at yours?"

 

Rachel huffed. "Well, I suppose – but _only_ because I love a good love story. And only if I get details as you find them out. But that doesn't mean I'm not still angry with Blaine."

 

"Duly noted," Kurt said, a small smile hinting at the corners of his lips. "Thanks, Rach – I'll see you in a little while?"

 

"Kay. We'll bake cookies and watch movies or something. Tell Blaine I'll leave the key under the mat for him."

 

"Sounds perfect – you're the best, Rach."

 

He could hear the hint of a smile in her voice as she answered, "Yes, well, I knew that already, didn't I?"

 

**To: Jeff**

**It's a go – Blaine can stay at Rachel's tonight.**

* * *

 

Blaine had just pulled his boxing gloves off and was beginning to unwrap his hands when he saw his phone light up on top of his gym bag. Wincing a little as he pulled the wrapping off of a sore knuckle, he stooped to see who it was.

 

**From: Nick**

**I feel like a jackass for doing this, but things**

**went really well today with Jeff,and he**

**rescheduled his flight for tomorrow so we**

**could have tonight together. So I was wondering,**

**is there any way you might could stay vacated**

**after 5-ish tonight?**

Blaine grinned.

 

**To: Nick**

**Sure thing, man! Congrats – that's huge! I guess –**

**has Jeff talked with Kurt about him not coming**

**home? Does he know that I'll be coming tonight?**

**From: Nick**

**Um, Jeff said something about you staying at**

**Rachel's? Maybe you should call Kurt for**

**confirmation?**

Blaine stared at the phone, feeling a little numb. He knew they'd talked about going to therapy before living together again, but the fact that Kurt didn't want him there for just one night …

 

He dialed Kurt's number.

 

"Hey," Kurt answered conversationally after a couple of rings. "Have you heard what's going on?"

 

"I heard that you want me to stay at Rachel's tonight," Blaine said evenly.

 

"Oh. Um, yeah, I asked her if that would be okay …" Kurt said hesitantly. "She said it was fine with her.

 

"Great. That'll be so convenient for me, dragging my suitcase all the way up to Murray Hill." Blaine stuffed his boxing gloves in his bag, but didn't zip it – he might not have been done with his workout after all. "So much easier than coming _home_ where I have, you know, _pajamas_ and _shoes_."

 

"Blaine – I thought we talked about this, that neither of us were ready –"

 

"But one night, Kurt?" Blaine asked, feeling a little anguished. "You can't stand to be around me for one night?"

 

"I –" Kurt stopped. "I just – if it's not for good then I can't – Rachel promised me a movie night," he finished dumbly.

 

Blaine dragged his fingers through his sweaty curls. "No, no, that's fine. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you. I don't mind carting a suitcase all over creation while two of my best friends fall in love with each other –"

 

"May I remind you," Kurt said testily, "that _you_ are the one who left in the first place?"

 

"Yeah, and you're never gonna let me forget it, are you?" Blaine muttered into the phone, getting the roll of gauze back out of his bag.

 

"I – Blaine, I thought we were a little better."

 

Blaine closed his eyes, holding the phone on his shoulder as he began to roll the gauze around his wrist. "I thought we were too. Which is why I was a little surprised to hear that I'd be staying at _Rachel's_. Isn't she mad at me, anyway?"

 

Kurt sighed. "She is. I'm sorry, Blaine. I didn't realize it would hurt your feelings –"

 

"Well, it did." Blaine stood, his hand on his hip, and bit his lower lip. "It really did, Kurt."

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"Yeah. Me too. Look, I was in the middle of a workout – I'll talk to you later, okay?" Blaine looked at the heavy bag, still swinging on its rope a little, and wanted nothing more than to punch it until his fingers ached.

 

"Okay. I really am sorry, Blaine."

 

"I know you are. Tell Rachel I say thanks for letting me breathe her air even though she hates me right now, okay?" He tried to keep the sarcastic tone from his voice, and wasn't sure how successful he was.

 

"Yeah, will do. I love you?"

 

The fact that Kurt posed it as a question might have hurt Blaine more than being sent to Rachel's house for a night.

 

"Yeah. I love you too."

 

He threw the phone in his bag along with his boxing gloves, which he left off his hands against his better judgment. The darkest part of his mind wanted to see his knuckles swell, bleed, a visible expression of the pain he felt inside. He wondered, as he began to punch the bag in an angry frenzy, if Kurt would even notice the next time they saw each other.

 

* * *

 

"So, this has been a better day than I thought it'd be," Jeff grinned as he pulled a soft, light blue sleep shirt over his head.

 

"How so?" Nick asked, a coy twinkle sparkling in his eye as he watched his best – no, his _boy_ friend change into his pajamas.

 

"Oh, I don't know," Jeff said, sauntering around Nick's bed to wrap his arms around Nick's middle. "I thought today would be a sad goodbye and a late plane ride. But I was wrong."

 

"Mmm, you were."

 

"There was the whole _us_ thing …"

 

"There was," Nick agreed, leaning back against Jeff's chest, warm and happy in his arms.

 

"…And then there was the walking through Central Park, drinking pumpkin spice lattes and holding hands thing …"

 

"That was nice."

 

"…And then there was the kissing." Jeff brushed his lips against the rim of Nick's ear. "That part was my favorite," he breathed.

 

"Mmm, mine too," Nick murmured, tipping his head back and catching Jeff's lips against his own. "Let's have more."

 

Nick turned around as Jeff deepened the kiss. He draped one arm around Jeff's neck and reached with the other hand to click the light off, shrouding them in violet twilight. They swayed slowly together in the shadowy room, learning each other's mouths all over again. Nick trembled under Jeff's tender touch as he slowly began to guide Nick backwards toward the bed.

 

"I never even _dreamed_ ," Jeff said breathily, his eyes fluttering open as Nick's knees hit the side of the mattress, "that I'd ever be able to have _this_ , with _you_."

 

"You do, though," Nick said. He smiled softly, sat down, scooted toward the headboard. "Come here."

 

His heart pitter-pattered in his chest as Jeff crawled toward him, and they both sighed blissfully as their lips met again. It was exhilarating, kissing Jeff in his bed, knowing the potential of what might come next. Jeff's long, thin frame hovering over him was the stuff his admittedly confusing dreams had been made of lately, and as he gazed up at the lean muscles rippling in Jeff's arms as he held himself inches above Nick's chest, he felt a surge of desire stronger than he'd ever felt before.

 

"Take this off?" he asked, playing with the neckline of Jeff's sleep shirt between his fingers. "Please?"

 

Jeff grinned, sliding his shirt off over his head in one fluid motion, and Nick stared up at him, the thin line of blonde hair that descended into his shorts from just below his navel, his flat, toned stomach with deliciously visible abs, his perfect brown nipples peaking on his strong chest. "God, you're gorgeous," Nick breathed, _wanting_.

 

"Well, thanks," Jeff said, glancing down at his bare chest.

 

"No, _seriously,_ Jeff – has anyone ever told you before? How perfect you are?"

 

Jeff blushed. "I wouldn't say _perfect_ …"

 

"Well, I would," Nick said as he ran his open palms down Jeff's arms. "You're so beautiful, Jeff."

 

"I –" Jeff started, then paused, blinking fast, and Nick swore his eyes were watering.

 

"Hey, hey, shhh," Nick said, reaching up to swipe his thumb under Jeff's eye as a single tear emerged. Worry began to cloud his otherwise blissful disposition – had he said the wrong thing? Had he somehow offended Jeff, calling him beautiful instead of handsome or hot or cute or something? "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you –"

 

"Say it again," Jeff interrupted.

 

"What?"

 

"I want to hear you say that again," Jeff said firmly, though his cheeks and neck were crimson. "I – I never thought I would, and –"

 

"Oh, Jeff, you're _beautiful_ ," Nick said, his voice full of reverence as he stared up into Jeff's eyes. "I'll say it as many times as you want to hear it."

 

"Then say it one more time," Jeff murmured, bending at the waist to take hold of the hem of Nick's t-shirt.

 

"You're beautiful, Jeff, and god, I want you so bad –"

 

"Off," Jeff said as he yanked at Nick's shirt, and Nick sat up a little, raising his arms as Jeff pulled it off over his head.

 

He felt heady with the skin-to-skin contact that made his stomach flip-flop as Jeff lowered them both back down, this time settling some weight on top of Nick. Jeff was barely pressing him into the mattress, but something about being held in place by Jeff's body was igniting a fire inside of Nick. "Kiss me again?" he practically pleaded.

 

Jeff made a pleased little noise, his hands exploring Nick's bare shoulders as he lowered his mouth. The moans came quicker this time, their bare chests brushing against each other and their thin shorts not leaving much to the imagination. Nick felt his nipples stand at attention as Jeff playfully grazed his fingers over them, and when he lowered his head and mouthed over one of them, licking in a lazy circle around it, Nick's cock _throbbed_.

 

" _Mmmmm_ ," he sighed, "do that again."

 

Sparks of pleasure shot through him as Jeff did so, lightly sucking, and Nick wondered briefly if it was possible to come just from that. But then Jeff shifted into a more comfortable position, and that thought flew away as fast as it had come, for as Jeff moved, Nick could feel the unmistakable press of Jeff's erection into his thigh. " _Jeff_ ," he grunted, rubbing his leg up against it to see what kind of reaction he could incite.

 

And it was quite a reaction indeed – Jeff groaned low in his throat, shifting his hips so that his and Nick's matching erections lined up. "Oh, _fuck_ ," Nick murmured as Jeff experimentally rocked forward.

 

"Good?" Jeff asked, his voice gravelly.

 

"God, yes," Nick whispered, canting his hips upward to try and get more contact. He grasped at Jeff's bare back and pulled him closer. Locking his lips on Jeff's neck, he sucked lightly, trying not to leave any marks. Jeff's eyes slid shut, his lips barely parted, and Nick thrust up harder.

 

"Do you – um, I'm not sure how much you're comfortable with," Jeff said, suddenly sounding nervous, as he opened his eyes, "but if you want to –"

 

"If I want to what?"

 

Jeff's couldn't look at him as he said it. "Take our shorts off?" he asked, looking down at the sheet now crumpled around them.

 

" _Yes_ ," he said emphatically. " _Yes_ , I want to do that –"

 

He'd seen Jeff naked before. Plenty of times, in fact. But this – this was different. He sat up, scooting his hips back, and played with the waistband on Jeff's shorts. "May I?"

 

Jeff nodded his head erratically, groaning as Nick carefully slipped his fingers under the elastic band. Nick quickly ran his hands over Jeff's ass before carefully sliding the shorts down his hips, careful not to catch his cock as he went. He sat and stared as Jeff kneeled before him, cock curving upward toward his belly.

 

"Is this weird for you?" Jeff asked, blushing furiously. "If it's weird –"

 

"It's not," Nick said quickly, staring unabashedly. The first thing he noticed was that Jeff was – well, _large_. Nick might had seen Jeff naked before, but he'd never seen Jeff naked with an erection, and – _wow._ He was a little thicker than Nick was, and longer by at least an inch, maybe even two. His heart began to thump harder in his chest – how was _that_ ever going to fit –

 

 _Stop._ He was getting ahead of himself. They weren't there yet – hadn't even talked about it, and wasn't that something one would need to discuss first? Who wants to top, who wants to bottom, what –

 

"Hey, you still with me?" Jeff asked gently, cupping Nick's face in his hand, tilting his head so that he was looking in Jeff's eyes. "Are you sure this isn't weird?"

 

"Yeah – yeah, sorry. You're just – wow. I thought I knew everything about you but – I guess you were hiding something …"

 

Jeff blushed even brighter red. "Um, well – how would one go about saying that, exactly? Hey, you don't know this about me, but I get extra-large hard-ons? It's not a conversation you just _have_ , you know …" Nick laughed, and Jeff huffed out a sigh. "You are not naked enough."

 

"I'm not," Nick agreed. "Care to oblige?"

 

Jeff stripped his shorts down in one smooth motion as Nick hoisted his hips off the bed, and he kicked them off, trying not to avert his eyes as Jeff studied him.

 

"You are _perfect_ ," Jeff declared after several seconds. He pushed on Nick's shoulder, nudging him back down toward his pillow. "Now, um –" he said, "what, um –"

 

"I just – I want to feel you for a minute," Nick blurted out, and Jeff smiled graciously, lining their cocks up again. Nick gasped loudly when Jeff's hips moved, and their soft, velvety skin rubbed against one another. "Oh my god –"

 

It was a sensation that he'd never felt before, his own cock rubbing up against another – no, up against _Jeff's_. He tried to concentrate at first, to memorize the feeling, because he never wanted to forget. But he soon gave up – it was too hard, thinking about it, when he just wanted to _feel_. He closed his eyes, let his mouth hang just a little agape, and allowed his hips to take over.If getting off with his boyfriend was a religion, well, he'd just become a convert.

 

"We can't do this for too much longer or it'll start to chafe," Jeff said after a few more thrusts that had Nick's head spinning.

 

"Fuck, Jeff, you want me to _stop_?" Nick gasped.

 

"We need lube," Jeff continued, "or – if it's okay –"

 

"What, what, anything," Nick moaned, his fingers curling into the sheets as he tried to still his stuttering hips.

 

"I'd really like to blow you," Jeff said shyly.

 

* * *

 

Blaine couldn't sleep. He was miserable in a foreign bed, surrounded by foreign walls, feeling alien and out of place. He didn't belong there. He knew it sounded ridiculous after having slept on Nick's couch for so long, but Rachel's loft was a _girl's_ loft, through and through. The makeup and the bottles of nail polish and the flowers on her boudoir caught the light coming through the window, casting strange shadows on the wall that seemed to loom over him like ghosts. He'd brought his own pillow, but it didn't matter – Rachel's whole _bed_ smelled like girl. The only thing he wanted to smell when he slept was Kurt.

 

With a sigh, he got out of bed, his bare feet lightly slapping the hardwood floors as he made his way to the large window that looked out over the city.

 

 _This is your fault_ , a voice in his head said, quiet but insistent. _If you'd never left Kurt in the first place_ –

 

"No!" he said out loud, shaking his head. _If I hadn't left,_ he thought, _I would've gone crazy._

_Listen to yourself. You're talking to a voice in your head,_ the voice said. _You're already crazy._

_I'm getting help,_ he told himself. _I'm going to therapy, I'm getting help …_

 

 _Which_ solidifies _the fact that you're crazy,_ the voice said. _You hate yourself._

Blaine blinked, perching on Rachel's windowsill. _I hate myself_ , he agreed. _I do. But I don't want to feel like this anymore …_

_Good luck with that,_ the voice said sarcastically. _Kurt's all but given up on you. Pretty soon_ he'll _be the one with the divorce papers, especially if you keep up this talking to yourself thing. You're lazy and you're worthless and what kind of parent did you think you'd be anyway? It's probably better that Violet got taken away from you …_

Blaine hung his head, hot tears stinging his eyes.

 

_Your own family doesn't even care about you. When's the last time you talked to your mom? Would she even recognize your voice if you called her? And what would your dad say about this, sitting in a window, crying like a girl?_

_I'm getting help,_ Blaine thought, pulling his knees to his chest. _I'm getting help and I'm going to stop hating myself and Kurt still loves me – he still_ loves _me –_

_No he doesn't. Just text him, see what happens,_ the voice said, using Blaine's own sarcastic tone.

 

 _Fine,_ Blaine thought angrily, brushing tears from his eyes. _Fine, I'll prove it_ , _and then_ "will youshut the fuck _up?_ " he shouted out loud. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling, wiping a hand over his face. "I really am crazy."

 

He got out his phone and stared at it for a long time before hesitantly typing a message to Kurt. Wednesday, the day of his first appointment with Dr. Jacobson, couldn't come fast enough.

 

* * *

 

Nick's eyes widened. Had Jeff just asked if he could _blow_ him? "Wh – what?"

 

Jeff smiled, a wicked little twinkle in his eye. "I want," he said, "to give you a blowjob."

 

"You – yes," Nick sputtered, "yes, yes, god – _please_ –"

 

Nick watched in awe as Jeff snaked his body backwards down Nick's chest and abdomen, hovering over his groin. His cock was hard and heavy, one drop of pre-come gleaming on the very tip.

 

"I can't believe this," Jeff murmured, gently caressing his fingers up and down, making Nick's hips jerk. "I don't think you understand," he said, looking up with a very serious expression. "I don't think – I never thought –"

 

" _Jeff_ –" Nick said. "Look at me."

 

Jeff did.

 

"I know you've waited forever for this, and I'm sorry I made you wait so long, but do _you_ understand – I got off _twice_ last night because of you. Once right before I went to sleep, and once right after I woke up from this dream –"

 

"You dreamed about me?"

 

This time _Nick_ flushed bright red. "Um, yeah," he said, remembering how dream-Jeff had held his arms down and his legs far apart as he fucked him raw. When he woke, he was already touching himself, hovering on the edge, and when he came, he had to bury his face in his pillow to keep from waking Blaine up. "Yeah, you could say that. You, um – well, it was really, _really_ hot –"

 

"So you – _fantasize_ about me?" Jeff asked.

 

"I tried not to, at first," Nick said. "But – what can you do? You're hot, we were close, I liked you – my brain goes where it wants to go, apparently. Do you – did you fantasize about me?"

 

"I –" Jeff paused. "Is this going to freak you out?"

 

"Considering I'm about to have my cock in your mouth, no, probably not," Nick grinned.

 

"Since I was fifteen. I've been fantasizing about you since we practically met," Jeff said. "You were just so _hot_ , god –"

 

"And now?" Nick asked, his voice low.

 

"Fuck, Nick," Jeff said, coming up to plant a searing kiss on his lips. "You're – you're like my Adonis – your fucking _body_ –"

 

"And do you still fantasize about me?" Nick murmured, gasping as Jeff's fingers began to stroke over his cock again.

 

"I've imagined this moment about a hundred times," Jeff said. "But – nothing compares, this is – you're _real,_ Nick –"

 

Nick grinned. "I'm _very_ real. I'm also very horny. And I would very much like that blowjob, if you're still interested …"

 

"Oh, I'm _very_ interested," Jeff grinned. He drifted back down, flicking his tongue out of his mouth to catch the pre-come on the tip of Nick's cock. Nick's eyes slammed shut as Jeff's lips slipped over the head and when he swirled his tongue around it, all the air left Nick's lungs. It was bliss, it was heaven, it was perfect, it was _indescribable,_ being enclosed in Jeff's warm-wet mouth. Then Jeff began to sink, lower and lower and lower until his nose was buried in the soft bed of curls at the base of it. Nick kept waiting for him to gag, to pull off, but he never did.

 

"Oh my god," he moaned as Jeff sucked and swallowed around him. He was torn – he wanted to watch Jeff bob up and down expertly between his legs, but he was fighting against his body and his instincts, to arch deeper into Jeff's mouth, to throw his head back with the sheer ecstasy of it. His entire body was buzzing, fingers and toes tingling, blood rushing red-hot into Jeff's cavern of a mouth. Finally he gave into his body, clutching at his sheets, at the rails on his headboard, arcing his back. He had _never_ had a blowjob that felt like _this_.

 

"Oh my _god_ –"

 

Jeff slid off with a lewd _smack_ and grinned at him, his lips wet and shiny with saliva. "I may have failed to mention that I give _really_ good head."

 

"No shit," Nick panted.

 

"You can, uh, move, if you want to. It's not going to – I mean, I can take it."

 

Nick tried not to whimper. "Okay."

 

Jeff slithered back down, this time teasing him, licking in long strokes and never giving him full satisfaction. Nick knew that he was making all sorts of embarrassing noises, whines and grunts and moans, but he couldn't bring himself to care as his hips stuttered off the bed, seeking Jeff's mouth.

 

Finally Jeff obliged, reaching up to graze his fingers over Nick's nipples as he sucked Nick's cock into his mouth. Nick experimentally thrust his hips upwards, pulled back, thrust again, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head as Jeff took it without a flinch.

 

"Fuck, Jeff, this might not last very long …"

 

Nick quickly devolved to groans and grunts as he rocked his hips up and down off the bed and into Jeff's deliciously wet mouth. He let his body take over – he was so close, so _close_ when suddenly Jeff pulled off with a little _pop_.

 

Nick whined – he couldn't help it, he _needed_ Jeff's mouth, he _needed –_

 

"I want to try something," Jeff said, his eyes wide and hungry. "It's not – I'm not going to _do_ anything, I'm just going to see –"

 

"Anything," Nick begged, "just – please, Jeff …"

 

Jeff picked up right where he left off, sucking and swallowing and bobbing his head, and Nick felt the familiar warmth pooling again, when – "Oh my – _fuck_ –"

 

Jeff's finger was grazing back behind Nick's balls, around his perineum and his hole, and with a gentle press of one finger in just the right place – he didn't even have to press inside – Nick saw sparks. Every muscle and nerve in his body ignited as pleasure coursed through his limbs, his chest – he could have sworn in that moment his _hair_ felt good.

 

"Fuck, _fuck_ , Jeff –" he said, grabbing his shoulder, "I'm almost – shit – if you want to pull off, do it now …"

 

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he _knew_ he wasn't expecting for Jeff to pull off for a brief second, asking, "Are you _crazy_?" before doubling his efforts, sucking harder, bobbing faster, his finger still circling Nick's hole. Lights flashed in Nick's closed eyes, and his toes curled as he swung on the precipice of climax. Jeff's finger was driving him _insane._ "Oh my god," he gasped, pistoning his hips up and down. "Yeah, yeah –"

 

Jeff tossed his one free hand up to Nick's chest in an impressive display of balance, his middle finger and thumb rubbing over both Nick's nipples simultaneously. "Holy _shit_ ," he moaned, slamming his cock into Jeff's mouth as Jeff moaned around it. And with one more particularly hard rub over both his nipples, he groaned loud and as his body fell over the edge. He shot into Jeff's mouth and Jeff sucked and swallowed him through it, still moaning around his cock.

 

Finally Jeff released him and his head fell back to the pillow. He felt like he was floating, breathing fast and heavy.

 

" _God_ you taste amazing," Jeff groaned, sounding a little hoarse, and if Nick had been sixteen, that's all it would've taken for him to be hard again. As it stood, he could barely catch his breath. "Was that good?"

 

"Holy _shit_ ," Nick said, letting out an embarrassingly high-pitched giggle. "I mean – _damn_."

 

Jeff grinned brightly. "Good. I, um, I don't want to be crude, but –" he gestured to his own cock, leaking and red and _huge_ , "do you mind if I …"

 

Nick stared at him. "More like, do _you_ mind if _I_ …"

 

"Oh," Jeff said dumbly. "Oh. If you want to …"

 

"Get up here. One of these days, you're going to teach me how to do what you just did, but tonight …"

 

"No," Jeff said, crawling up beside Nick, "god, I don't want you to feel obligated –"

 

Nick looked at Jeff, raising his eyebrows. "Believe me, _obligation_ is the last thing I'm feeling. Here, lean back."

 

Jeff blushed, sitting between Nick's legs as he was directed, leaning back against his chest. Nick reached into his dresser drawer, grabbed a bottle of lube and slicked up his hand.

 

"Please don’t base any expectation of future performance on this," Jeff said, his head dropping back to Nick's shoulder. "I think I'd come if you _breathed_ on me right now –"

 

"Mmm, that would be a fun experiment," Nick murmured, closing his hand around Jeff's cock. It was huge in his hand, and jerked a little as he slid his hand down to the base. "Fuck, Jeff," he whispered as Jeff let his knees fall to the sides, putting more of his weight on Nick's chest.

 

"Fuck is right," Jeff murmured. "This is like – you don't even know –"

 

" _Shhh_ ," Nick whispered again, closing his mouth over Jeff's neck, lightly sucking as he slid his hand up and down, up and down. He brought his other hand up, doing the same thing to Jeff's nipples as he'd done to his, rubbing at them simultaneously with his thumb and middle finger. Jeff groaned, panting in his arms.

 

"I'm so close already – I'm sorry –"

 

"Don't be sorry," Nick murmured, keeping up a long, slow pace with his hand, trying to memorize the feel of Jeff's cock. "Nothing to be sorry for."

 

After just a few strokes, Jeff began to tremble in his arms. "Oh my god," he intoned, "oh my _god, Nick_ …"

 

Nick never sped up, just continued the torturous drag of his hand as he felt all the muscles in Jeff's body begin to tense. Jeff began thrusting up into Nick's hand, moaning louder and louder and yeah, Nick was _really_ glad that Blaine wasn't in the next room.

 

"Fuck, fuck," Jeff gasped, his hips jerking harder.

 

"Come on," Nick murmured, "come on …" He nipped lightly at Jeff's ear, keeping the same slow pace, and Jeff threw his head to the side.

 

" _God, ahh, ahhhhhhh_ ," Jeff groaned, his hips snapping up twice more before he came all over Nick's hand and his own stomach. His mouth went slack and he slumped back against Nick, who slid his arm around Jeff's chest, holding him close. He took a few minutes to come down, then blinked open his eyes and smiled sleepily.

 

"Hi."

 

"Hi, yourself," Nick grinned.

 

"You're amazing," he murmured, and Nick's heart had never felt so warm.

 

"Yeah? Same goes for you," Nick said, kissing the top of his head. "It's weird that this doesn't feel weird."

 

"Feels right."

 

"Mmm," Nick agreed. "I'll be right back."

 

He clambered out from behind Jeff's back and padded to the bathroom, humming softly as he dampened a washcloth. When he glanced back at the bed, Jeff was nearly asleep already, his eyelids heavy and his breathing slow. He smiled softly, then looked back at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were flushed, his hair was a _wreck_ , and his eyes held the unmistakable light of someone in love. He looked _happy_.

 

Once the washcloth was wrung out, he ambled back to bed, sitting on the edge next to Jeff, who was sprawled on his back.

 

"I can't believe I missed out on you for so many years," he said, gently cleaning Jeff's stomach off with the cloth. "You were right in front of me, and I never realized –"

 

" _Shhh_ ," Jeff whispered, bringing his forefinger up to cover Nick's lips. "No talking. Sleep time."

 

Nick grinned and climbed into bed once Jeff was clean, tugging him against his chest and tucking his down comforter over both their unclothed bodies. "You're right. Sleep time with me. I'll see you in the morning, 'kay?"

 

"'Kay," Jeff said happily, curling closer to Nick's chest. "Night."

 

"Night, Jeff." Nick waited until his boyfriend was asleep to whisper softly in his ear. "I think I love you."

 

* * *

 

_"Blaine, where are you? I can hear you – I'm trying to find you, but you have to tell me where you are!"_

_Kurt's in a forest, dark and dank and woodsy. The full moon above casts shadows on the ground, distorting his vision – why can't he see? – making him jump and his heart pound._

_"Kurt!"_

_Blaine's voice echoes through the woods – it shouldn't echo like that, there aren't any mountains, there's no canyon, nothing that should cause that kind of acoustics, but Blaine's voice is all around him. He sounds scared. He sounds like he's crying._

_"Blaine, I'm coming!"_

_Keep going. Just keep walking, you'll find him, keep going._

_He's so tired. So slow. Why is he so slow?_

_Finally he comes to a clearing, a wide valley shaped like a bowl that might be pretty during the day but is positively terrifying at night – there's something dark down there, and –_

_"KURT!!!_ "

_Go. Run. Can't run fast enough, legs feel like lead, can't get there, oh god, don't hurt him –_

_Blaine is cowering, arms up over his head, face twisted – Kurt can see tears falling from his eyes._

_There's nothing there._

_"Blaine?"_

_"Kurt, HELP ME!" Kurt's never seen him so terrified, so frightened in all his life, has never heard him scream like that. It's like he's being tortured by something invisible, something terrible that Kurt can't even see. He rushes toward him, needing to hold him, needing to gather him up, and – BAM._

_It's like Kurt has run into a wall of glass._

_"Blaine!"_

_"Please – please help me, I can't –"_

_Blaine's desperate now, and Kurt watches, helpless, as his eyes widen, a look of sheer terror washing over his beautiful face, and –_

Kurt gasped, sitting straight up in bed, clutching his chest. He couldn't get enough air, breathing hard and heavy as Rachel let out a tiny snore and snuggled deeper into the blankets beside him.

 

"Okay," he whispered. "You're okay. Just a nightmare."

 

He glanced over at his nightstand, his heart pounding, and saw his phone lit up – it must've buzzed and woke him. Normally he'd be annoyed at a text or a call at two in the morning, but he was thankful – whoever sent it kept him from seeing the ending of that particularly horrible dream.

 

But when he looked at the screen and saw the message there, his heart threatened to beat right out of his chest.

 

**From: The Husband**

**I need help.**

 

He stumbled out of bed into the living room, fingers fumbling with the phone, trying to dial the number. He'd started to cry at some point, the dream so scary, so fresh on his mind, so horrifically close to what Blaine had texted to him.

 

 _Please be okay_ , he silently begged as the phone rang in his ear, _please be okay until I can get to you …_

 

"Kurt?"

 

"Oh, thank god you're there, Blaine," he said, two huge lungfuls of relief whooshing out of his body. "Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you? Are you at Rachel's?"

 

"Kurt, I – I don't know what's wrong with me, I –"

 

The fear in Blaine's voice was enough to spur Kurt into action – he darted back into the bedroom, pulling out a hooded fleece jacket and slipping on a pair of Blaine's flip-flops.

 

"Okay, honey, just breathe – just tell me what's going on." Kurt grabbed his keys and ran out the door, skipping the elevator and darting down the four flights of stairs.

 

"I just – I don't know, I feel crazy." Kurt could practically see him pacing around Rachel's loft. "I keep – there are these voices, but it's _me_ , Kurt, _I'm_ telling myself all these awful things, and it's like there are two parts to my brain, and – oh my god, I'm schizophrenic –"

 

"Hey, hey, calm down," Kurt said as gently as he could while still running down the street. He realized that he hadn't left Rachel a note, and promised himself that he'd text her when he got to her apartment. "You aren't schizophrenic, okay? I talk to myself all the time."

 

"But these – these are awful things," Blaine said, his voice shaky. "Like – Kurt, I feel like I _hate_ myself –"

 

"No, no Blaine – there's nothing in you to hate, _nothing_ , please don't say things like that."

 

"Kurt – I need you," he said in a very small voice.

 

"Okay, honey, I'm coming," Kurt assured him, his heart breaking. "I'm on my way – goddammit, why does Rachel have to live all the way in Murray Hill – I'll be there as soon as I can. Just – hang on for me, okay? I'll lose signal on the subway …"

 

Kurt hightailed it down the escalator and managed to catch the 2:25 train just before the doors closed. And then he waited.

 

It was twenty-six minutes of hell on earth, with no way to make sure that Blaine was alright, Kurt's nightmare playing on loop in his head. He couldn't get Blaine's terrified face out of his mind.

 

Finally, after going through every scenario of finding Blaine dead in Rachel's apartment that he could think of, he arrived at his stop.

 

He flew out of the subway, up the escalator, and called Blaine back as he ran down the sidewalk. His heart hammered as the phone rang once, twice, three times …

 

"Kurt?"

 

"Oh, thank god," he breathed. "Okay, I'm almost there. Blaine, please be honest with me – how much have you had to drink tonight?"

 

Blaine was quiet for a moment. "Drink? I – nothing. I'm just – my own brain is scaring me –"

 

"You didn't drink?"

 

"No – god, I feel so dumb, Kurt, you didn't have to –"

 

"Shut up. Shut the _fuck_ up, Blaine," Kurt said, tears stinging his eyes again. "I _did_ have to. You say you need me, I come, end of statement. I don't care how mad I am or how mad you are or –" He broke off, realizing how sharp his tone was getting. "I'm sorry, that was harsh," he said. "I just – you _scared_ me, honey, I – I'm almost there."

 

"Okay."

 

Kurt sprinted the last quarter-mile, pressing his hand to the stitch that was forming in his side, cursing himself for letting himself get so out of shape.

 

When he arrived at Rachel's loft, he let himself in with his copy of her key and ran up the three flights of stairs.

 

"Blaine?" he said as he burst through the door, still fearing the worst in spite of the fact that Blaine was still on the phone with him.

 

"Hi," Blaine said, sniffling a little. He was crouched in the shadow of Rachel's fireplace, and it made Kurt sick to his stomach, how similar his posture was to the posture of the Blaine in his dream.

 

"Oh, Blaine, honey," Kurt said, rushing over and crouching next to him. Relief flooded his entire system as he pulled Blaine into his arms, letting him cry into his jacket – he was here, there was no invisible barrier keeping him from his husband, he could _do_ something. "It's okay, you're okay."

 

"I feel so stupid," Blaine said, chuckling a little as he clung to him tightly. "I'm sorry I got you out of bed for this …"

 

"I'm not," Kurt said, burying his nose in Blaine's curls. "God, you scared me."

 

"I'm sorry. I just – I felt so out of control, like my brain was split in half – it was like my evil twin or something, just like _tormenting_ me –" Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ward off the tears as he thought of his dream. Blaine being tortured by something invisible. Screaming for help. "I just hate myself so _much_ sometimes that the rational part of my brain doesn't work –"

 

"Why do you hate yourself?" Kurt asked.

 

"I'm weak. I'm too emotional. I'm lazy – I sit around doing _nothing_ all day, Kurt. I'm basically useless. And – I left you. You needed me and I left, and if that doesn't make me hate myself, well …"

 

"You did leave me," Kurt told him. "And it hurt, really, really bad. But you didn't leave because you were walking out on me. You left because I hurt you, too."

 

Blaine contemplated this for a moment. "Why didn't you want me?" he eventually asked, looking up at Kurt with big, sad eyes. "Tonight – why didn't you want me with you?"

 

"I – Blaine –"

 

"Do you still love me? Because I – I don't know if I would love me. Hell, I _don't_ love me…"

 

"Of course I love you, honey," he said, brushing a hand through Blaine's rumpled curls. "But I'm – I can't watch you leave again. I'm so tired of us being broken, and I'm afraid that if we try to live in the same place again, we'll just go right back to where we were. I just want to get some help, so we can figure out how to do it right. And – I'm here now, aren't I?"

 

Blaine's face twisted as a fresh onslaught of tears overtook him. He fell face-first into Kurt's chest, and Kurt slid his arms around Blaine's back.

 

"Will you stay with me?" Blaine asked, very quietly.

 

"You know I'd never leave you like this."

 

"I'm so sorry –"

 

" _Shhh_ , there's nothing to be sorry for," Kurt said. "Come on." He led Blaine to Rachel's bed and climbed in, gesturing for him to slide in as well. "I'll keep the voices away from you, and you can keep the nightmares away from me."

 

"Are you having bad dreams?" Blaine asked as he curled up beside Kurt.

 

"Hopefully not anymore." He paused, tucking his arm around Blaine's middle. "What's that poem you used to tell me when I'd have nightmares back in college?"

 

He heard Blaine's breath hitch just slightly before he answered. "Tie your heart at night to mine, love, and both will defeat the darkness," Blaine murmured, "like twin drums beating in the forest against the heavy wall of wet leaves."

 

Kurt pulled his arm tighter around Blaine. "Yes. That one. Tie your heart to mine, love, tonight, okay?"

 

Blaine nodded, turning in Kurt's arms and burying his face in Kurt's shoulder. "If you'll tie yours to mine, too."

 

"I promise," Kurt whispered. "Goodnight, husband. I love you."

 

Blaine's voice broke again as he replied. "Goodnight, husband. I love you, too."


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Niff share a fun morning before a painful goodbye, Kurt is comforted by Blaine, and Blaine has his first therapy appointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck I suck I suck - I know I promised daily updates, but yesterday totally got away from me between a cake tasting with my best friend and a glee season finale party at my house and eating lunch at work with my husband ... I am SO SORRY :( But. I'm updating now! Please don't hate me!

**Chapter 25**

**Monday, September 18, 2023**

"I can't believe I have to leave you today."

 

Jeff lay in Nick's bed, warm and cozy under the covers, reaching over Nick to steal a sip of the chai tea latte that Nick had made himself that morning.

 

"Shhh, don't talk about that," Nick said. "I don't want to talk about that." He ducked under the covers, found one of Jeff's bare nipples and sucked on it. "Rather do this …"

 

Jeff gasped, nearly spilling the latte in the bed. "Nick!" he laughed, squirming underneath him.

 

Nick's head popped out from under the covers. "What?" he asked innocently. There was a twinkle in his eye that Jeff hadn't seen in years – he seemed so _happy_ , and it was contagious, apparently, because Jeff felt like he could float.

 

"C'mere," Jeff said, setting Nick's latte on the bedside table and hauling him up for a kiss. "Mmmm, I could do this all day."

 

"I wish we could."

 

"Me too." Jeff stroked his fingers over Nick's face, still in awe that he was in bed with his best friend, still pinching himself because none of it could have been real. "Nick, last night – I just – you don't understand –"

 

"You keep saying that," Nick said thoughtfully, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his palm. "But, believe it or not, I get it. I know you've been patient a lot longer than I have, and I can't tell you how glad I am that you waited me out, but – Jeff, I've never wanted anybody like I wanted you last night. Like I wanted you when you kissed me at the club …" Jeff's heart fluttered. "There was this ache in me, and after last night, I don't feel it anymore –"

 

"Oh my god, are you _trying_ to kill me?" Jeff laughed happily, holding Nick's face between his hands and kissing him solidly on the lips. "What am I going to do in Chicago without you?"

 

"You're going to Skype with me every night," Nick said with a smile, "and you're going to go be amazing at work, and we're going to see each other again as soon as we can afford it, and then we're going to do this …" He stroked a hand over Jeff's already half-hard cock, making him shiver.

 

"What time is it? Do we have time –"

 

"We've got an hour and a half before we've got to have you packed, dressed, and out the door," Nick grinned. "So yeah, I think we have time for _something_ …"

 

Jeff's heart _ka-thunk, ka-thunked_ in his chest as he rolled over on top of Nick, peppering his chest and shoulders with kisses. It was like he was sixteen again, only a much, much better version of sixteen, with New York and kisses and sex, instead of Westerville and Warbler practice and homework. "God, this is fun," he said, bracing on an elbow so that he could grab Nick's lube from his nightstand.

 

"I know, I feel like a kid," Nick grinned, draping an arm across Jeff's ass. "But in a very adult sort of way …"

 

"Mmm," Jeff agreed. "So, there's this thing we could do –"

 

"Do it," Nick said without hesitation. "I'm all in."

 

Jeff laughed. "You don't even know what it is! It could be something totally weird – like what if I wanted to pee on you or something equally as gross?" He paused. "Unless you're into that …"

 

Nick laughed. "Not by a long shot. But – look, Jeff, it's not like I've never had sex before. I trust you. And no matter what we do, I know it'll be fantastic because I'll be doing it with you."

 

"You're doing that on purpose," Jeff said, throwing him a playful glare. "Stop being so sweet."

 

"Never," Nick murmured, pulling Jeff down into a searing kiss. "So … that thing we could do … what was it?"

 

"I'll show you." Jeff squeezed some lube into his hand, then dropped the weight of his hips on top of Nick's. Nick moaned as their cocks brushed together, and Jeff stared in awe as he grew harder, longer, thicker. "It's like a flower," he said softly.

 

"My dick?" Nick started laughing. "Now _you're_ doing that on purpose."

 

Jeff rolled his eyes. "It _is_ ," he said, "stop laughing. I was just thinking of flowers blooming, and – oh, never mind." He slicked them both up, laughing softly at himself, then took them together in one hand. His fingers could barely hold their combined breadth.

 

"Oh, shit," Nick whispered as Jeff did one experimental drag up and down them both. "Fuck, this _is_ going to be fun."

 

"Mm-hmm," Jeff grinned, sealing his mouth over Nick's as his hand began to move faster. He moaned as Nick's hands settled on his ass, massaging down deep into the muscles, pulling him closer as their hips rolled together into the circle of Jeff's fingers.

 

Their lazy kisses grew a little sloppier as time passed. The tension was building as their cocks slid back and forth against each other, and Jeff's hips were just starting to quicken when Nick tapped him on the shoulder.

 

"Can you – can we –"

 

"What?"

 

"That thing with your finger," Nick breathed. "That you did last night. Can you – I can do this part, can you just –"

 

"Oh," Jeff said, a smile spreading across his face. "You liked that?"

 

"Oh my _god_ ," Nick moaned. "I fucking _loved_ it …"

 

"Here." Jeff grabbed the lube, making a total mess of it and the sheets as he squeezed some into Nick's open palm, then squeezed more onto his fingers. "You just do what I did, and I'll take care of you, okay?"

 

He tried to keep his breathing even as Nick's hand wrapped around their cocks. Nick's fingers were smoother than his own and his grip was firm as they began to move against each other again.

 

It was a slightly awkward angle, being on top of Nick, so Jeff rolled them over to the side, reaching around Nick's hip. As soon as he found the puckered ring of skin and rubbed over it gently, Nick gasped, his hips and hand speeding up.

 

"Oh, you _do_ like this," Jeff said slyly.

 

Nick only grunted in reply.

 

Jeff drew his finger in the same small circles he'd done the night before, until Nick was writhing in his arms. He tried to ignore his own leaking cock – which was a little hard to do, as it felt like Nick was literally trying to pull his orgasm from his body – and leaned close to Nick's ear. "Do you want more?"

 

" _God, yes_ ," Nick moaned.

 

Jeff gently pressed his finger inside, inciting a moan from Nick that went straight to his own cock.

 

"Why, Nick," Jeff grinned, trying to control his breathing, "I think you might just be a bottom." He paused, slipping his finger in and out as Nick bucked, his hand flying over their cocks. "Which is nice," he murmured, "because I would really love to fuck you one day." And _Jesus,_ it was true – Nick was smooth and warm around Jeff's finger, the starburst of a hole clenching rhythmically. He was so _deliciously_ tight, and oh, Jeff wanted to do this, wanted to do _more_ , for the rest of his life.

 

"Ohmygod," Nick babbled, forgoing his hand altogether to drive his cock up against Jeff's, fast and hard. He came with a shout, his eyes squeezed shut and fingers clenched, then his entire body instantly went slack as he fell back to the bed. " _Ohhhh_ ," he moaned, and Jeff covered his mouth in a hungry kiss.

 

"You are so hot," Jeff gasped. "I never imagined – Nick, when you come –"

 

Nick laughed beside him, a breathy, delightful noise, and Jeff wanted to make him sound like that forever. But it was clear that Nick was too boneless to do much; he was _shaking_ in a post-orgasmic haze, and Jeff was so hard that it was getting painful.

 

"I'm sorry," he groaned as his hand found his leaking cock. "Do you mind –"

 

"'S okay," Nick said with a grin, sloppily kissing him again, "I wanna watch." Jeff moaned loudly as he stroked himself forcefully, desperate for relief. " _Fuck_ ," he heard Nick whisper as he came with a jolt a few seconds later, streaking across Nick's thigh.

 

"Shit," Jeff gasped, falling facedown into his pillow and trying to remember how to breathe.

 

"Damn, that was hot," Nick said, stroking his fingers through Jeff's hair

 

"Mmmm," Jeff mumbled into the pillow.

 

"Were you serious about that? Fucking me?" Nick asked curiously, coming up to lean on one elbow, still breathing hard.

 

Jeff turned to the side and nodded his head.

 

"Because – your finger – I just –"

 

"You liked it," he grinned.

 

"I've never – I've asked, just no girl has ever – they think it's weird," Nick said, blushing.

 

" _I_ don't think it's weird. _I_ think it was one of the hottest things I've ever seen," Jeff said. "God, the way you just fall apart …"

 

"Stop – stop it, or I'll want to do more, and you'll miss your flight," Nick laughed. He threw his arms behind his head, lounging on the bed. "God, I love this."

 

Jeff beamed at him. _I love you_ , he thought silently. "I love it too. But – you're right, I've got to go." He looked down at them, come-streaked and sweaty, with lube drying sticky on both their cocks. "We're kind of disgusting. Do you maybe want to shower with me?"

 

"I would _love_ to shower with you." Nick gazed at him. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that?"

 

Jeff laughed. "Oh my god, _stop_! You're not allowed to be that sappy when we're in a hurry – it makes me want to _do things_ to you."

 

"And why would I _not_ want that?"

 

"Nick. Shower. Go!"

 

They laughed their way into the bathroom, stealing kisses and glances and touches. And if Jeff got on his knees in the shower to suck Nick off until he fell against the wall, and if Nick propped himself back up long enough to get Jeff off with his hand again, and if Jeff had to run all the way to his gate once he got through security at the airport, well, no one would ever need to know.

 

* * *

 

**Wednesday, September 20 th, 2023**

"Kurt. Drink your smoothie."

 

"I _can't_ ," Kurt groaned. "Rachel, I should _be_ there."

 

It was the first day of Fashion Week, and Kurt was sitting at his kitchen table, still in his pajamas, not eating the smoothie Rachel made him as the Today Show played as background noise in the living room. "I can't believe this. He's going to fire me, I'm not going to have a job by the time this is over, I'm going to be broke and Blaine's not writing and we'll lose our home and we won't be able to afford our therapy and – Rachel, _what am I going to do_?"

 

"Calm down, and just drink this." Rachel slid the smoothie in front of Kurt for the fifth time that morning.

 

"Calm down? I could be giving up the career that I've worked my entire life for because I can't fucking deal and you want me to _calm down_? God, you know, I should just go. Better late than never, right? I – I know what all the models are wearing, hell, I _picked_ half of them, I just need to change clothes and leave now –"

 

"You will do no such thing," Rachel said firmly, grabbing onto Kurt's shoulders and pushing him back into the chair as he tried to stand. "You're going to stay here, and you're going to drink your smoothie, and you're going to _calm. Down_."

 

"I can't." Kurt held up his hands, feeling completely helpless. "I can't, Rach – I can't do any of it." Tears began to sting his eyes. "I can't work, I can't eat, I drove my husband out of his own house – God, look at me, I'm sitting here _wasting_ my _life_ –"

 

He folded his arms on the table and let his head drop down with a _thunk_. Wasting his life was exactly what he was doing, and he was doing it over a stupid nervous breakdown and his stupid ongoing fight with Blaine. The Kurt he used to be would never have broken like that. He used to be stronger than this. Not anymore.

 

"Kurt –" he heard Rachel sigh. "Your smoothie will be in the fridge if you want it. I'm calling your boss, and letting him tell you personally that he doesn't expect you to be there –"

 

"No!" he exclaimed, jerking his head up. "Don’t call him, he already thinks I'm unstable enough as it is–"

 

"Fine, then. I'm calling Blaine."

 

Kurt blinked at her. "I thought you were mad at him."

 

"I am, but even I'll admit that he's the only one who's ever been able to get through to you when you're like this. I just hope he's not too drunk to walk over here …"

 

"He's not drinking, Rachel," Kurt snapped. "Not like that …"

 

"Okay, okay, whatever. So I can call him, but not Marc?"

 

Kurt sighed again, heavier this time. He didn't even have enough fight in him to argue with her. "Do whatever you want. I'll be in the bedroom."

 

He dragged himself down the hall, switched off the light and turned on his bedside lamp. He dug in Blaine's dresser through boxer briefs and socks without pairs (which incited his typical eye rolling over the 'sock-eating monster' Blaine always cited) until he found Blaine's Dalton hoodie. It didn't really smell like Blaine anymore – he'd been wearing it too much lately – but he grabbed Blaine's bottle of Polo Black and spritzed the front with one spray. He pulled it over his head and almost started to cry, overwhelmed with the scent that usually announced his husband's presence.

 

Kurt sniffled, grabbed his portfolio, and turned back the charcoal linen comforter, flopping onto the bed on his stomach like a fish. And, as if he needed a reason to hate himself more, he flipped in the portfolio to the last fall/winter collection. It was a triumphant time – it had been the most responsibility he'd had with the label so far, and he was so proud of the collection, proud to show the pieces, proud to wear them. They were good. _He_ was good. So good, in fact, that after the show, Marc had dragged him around, introducing him to celebrities and socialites.

 

And now, six months later, he was in bed wearing a ratty hoodie and a pair of yoga pants, fighting with Blaine, barely able to eat. Decidedly _not_ working. Decidedly _not_ at Fashion Week.

 

He shut the portfolio and pulled a pillow over his head, his legs still hanging halfway off the bed.

 

Sometime later – it could've been minutes; it could've been an hour; Kurt had completely lost track – he heard his door open.

 

"Kurt?" He peeked out from under the pillow. Blaine stood in the doorframe, out of breath, looking rumpled and gorgeous in jeans and a crewneck sweater. "Rachel called – she said you needed me –"

 

Kurt tossed the pillow aside, rolled over and sat up. "Blaine, did you run here?" he asked, trying to smooth his hair into some semblance of order.

 

"Well, yeah." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

Kurt sighed. "You didn't have to. I'm fine."

 

"You're wearing my hoodie," Blaine pointed out.

 

Kurt looked down at the faded, cracking letters on the soft blue fabric, fingering one of the strings threaded through the hood. "Yeah."

 

"You only wear it when you're upset about something," Blaine stated gently.

 

"Well … yeah," Kurt admitted.

 

"Does it still help? Even after … you know, with me not here?"

 

Kurt took a deep breath. "Wearing it is like getting a hug from you. So, yeah, it helps."

 

Blaine tipped his head, his expression softening. "Would you like a real one?"

 

"Yeah, I really would," Kurt said, his voice cracking. Blaine moved toward the bed, opening his arms and Kurt clambered onto his knees, burying his face in Blaine's soft sweater, letting his weight rest against Blaine's small but sturdy frame. He'd almost forgotten how safe Blaine's arms felt.

 

"Now," Blaine said, pressing a kiss to Kurt's temple, "you want to tell me what's wrong?"

 

"It's just – it's the first day of Fashion Week," Kurt said, tucking his cheek against Blaine's. "And I'm not there."

 

"Hey, it's okay," Blaine told him, one hand rubbing his back, the other holding the back of his head. "You're there in spirit, aren't you? I mean, all those designs – a lot of them are yours."

 

"Yeah," Kurt said, his voice watery. "But –"

 

"You were killing yourself, Kurt," Blaine said, pulling back to look in his eyes. "Working like that and not eating, and –"

 

"And how is this better?" Kurt asked, gesturing to his clothes. "I look homeless. Rachel practically has to force-feed me, and I'm not doing _anything_ with my time. Did you see the house? It's a wreck."

 

"And I'm obviously doing so much better … you know, getting drunk, having meltdowns in the middle of the night, walking out on my husband, sleeping on my friend's couch …"

 

Kurt blinked at him.

 

"Nobody expects anything more from you than you can give, Kurt. Except maybe you." He sank onto the bed with Kurt, and they sat against the headboard, leaning against each other.

 

"But what if I lose my job?" Kurt asked after a few minutes. "What if he fires me?"

 

"Baby, we've talked about this before." Blaine grasped Kurt's chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding his gaze. "He wasn't expecting you to be back at work yet anyway. You were supposed to go to Fashion Week as an audience member, remember?"

 

"But that was when I was supposed to be busy! We were supposed to have a baby, we were supposed to be exhausted and covered in spit-up and drool and we were supposed to be _happy_ , Blaine!"

 

"I know," he said, stroking Kurt's hair. "I know."

 

Kurt sighed, looking up at the wedding picture that hung above their dresser, the one that made his heart flip-flop whenever he looked at it lately. "I'm not happy at all. Not even a little bit."

 

"I know," Blaine sighed. "I'm not, either. We just – we'll have to learn again, how to be happy."

 

Kurt looked up at him. "I thought you were scared of being happy."

 

"Well, I am. But I think I'm even _more_ scared of feeling like this for the rest of my life. It's pretty miserable." He paused, picking fuzz off the sheet underneath them.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"It's just that … this is the first time I've been back since – you know," Blaine said softly. "I've missed our bed."

 

"And I've missed you in it," Kurt said, his eyes beginning to water. "But Blaine –"

 

"I know, I know," he said. "I'm not asking. I just – I miss it," he said, swiping a finger under one of his eyes. "I miss you."

 

Kurt nodded, too afraid to say anything for fear of crying.

 

Blaine sighed. "I never said thank you for coming to Rachel's Sunday night to make mefeel better."

 

"I was so scared," Kurt whispered, remembering the panicked expression on Blaine's face that night, the dream that shook him to his core.

 

"I was too," Blaine said. "Speaking of that … and of missing our bed … I have my first appointment with Dr. Jacobson this afternoon."

 

"Are you nervous?"

 

"Terrified," Blaine said with a self-deprecating smile.

 

"I'm proud of you, you know. For going," Kurt told him.

 

"I know. I'm proud of me, too. It's just – it's like getting a shot, I guess? Like, you know you have to have it, but you also know it's going to hurt like hell."

 

"Not for always," Kurt murmured, resting his hand on Blaine's stomach. "Just for a little while." He sighed as Blaine's hand found his. "Stay with me until it's time?"

 

"Of course I will."

 

* * *

 

Blaine sat in a large, cushy chair, his foot jiggling nervously as he waited for his name to be called. There were two other people waiting as well, and he could feel them judging him, could feel them staring, trying to figure out why hewas there.

 

He was there because he was going crazy. Which was probably exactly what they were all thinking.

 

"Blaine Anderson-Hummel?"

 

He was startled, sucking in a little gasp of air at the sound of his name. A tall woman with waist-length graying hair wearing a bright turquoise and purple peasant skirt stood at the desk, smiling in his direction. She matched the picture on the website perfectly. He tried to keep his hands from shaking as he made his way toward her. "Um, I'm Blaine," he said, clearing his throat. She offered her hand for him to shake.

 

"I'm Dr. Jacobson, Blaine. You can follow me back to my office, okay?"

 

He nodded, wiping his hand on his jeans before taking hers, embarrassed by his sweaty palms.

 

He followed her nervously down the hallway, surprised when she walked into a bright, cheerful-looking room. He was expecting someplace dark and austere, with cherry wood and tall bookcases like his dad's office had, but this room was lit by the sun, a huge window making up one whole wall. The other three walls were painted apple green, and an off-white cushy couch sat just a little off-kilter, a papasan chair across from it.

 

Dr. Jacobson took the papasan chair, gesturing for Blaine to sit across from her, and he sank down into the soft cushions.

 

"So, it's good to meet you," she told him, pulling out a yellow legal pad and a pen. "I read the email you sent me – you've had a hell of a year, it sounds like."

 

"Yeah, well …" He shrugged, looking at the ground. "Could've been worse."

 

"You think so?"

 

Blaine couldn't meet her eyes. "Well, nobody died," he said.

 

"That's true," she said slowly, making a note, and he wondered what she was writing. She looked up at him. "Okay, Blaine, why don't you tell me what you'd like to get out of our time together?"

 

"I – I don't know, I want to feel better –"

 

"And how do you feel now?"

 

"I –" Blaine stopped, a little unnerved by the fact that he held this woman's undivided attention. His first instinct was to be an _Anderson_ , as his dad would proudly say, to apologize for wasting her time, to tell her that clearly there was nothing wrong with him, that he'd made a mistake.

 

But then he remembered the shocking clarity he'd felt as he looked out Nick's window that early morning. He remembered how broken was then, how broken he _still_ was.

 

And for the first time in his life, Blaine wanted to be completely honest about his feelings. He had no idea if he trusted this woman, but sitting there in a skirt he knew Kurt would hate, wearing a serene, open expression, was his only hope at recovering his former life. A life with Kurt. A life full of writing, of stories, of books. A life where he could feel happy again …

 

"Blaine? Are you still with me?"

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry," he said. He cleared his throat. "I feel … bad."

 

"Bad can mean lots of different things," Dr. Jacobson told him. "Can you give me a little more detail than that?"

 

"I –" He was fidgety, his knees bouncing wildly up and down. Honesty was apparently even harder than he thought. "I, um –"

 

"Is it hard for you to talk about how you're feeling?"

 

Blaine sighed. "More when there's something wrong," he said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Like … I don't have a problem saying that I'm happy or excited, but …" He couldn't find the words he wanted, and it was unnerving, the way she was just sitting there, waiting for him to speak. Even when Kurt listened to him, he helped fill in what Blaine couldn't say. She was apparently going to make him do it all by himself. "… I haven't felt happy or excited in a long time."

 

"Since you lost your baby? Or before then?"

 

"No, I was fine before that." He paused. Was that true? Or had he just been _telling_ himself that he was fine all those years? He didn't even know… "But – I don't want to talk about her yet." He hung his head. "I'm sorry, I –"  

 

"Blaine, let me make something very clear before we go any further. This is supposed to be a safe space where you can talk about the things you feel like you need to discuss. The moment you feel unsafe here, it becomes counterproductive. I don't want you to feel like you need to apologize for anything. You're not doing anything wrong."

 

 _Then why does everything I do and think_ feel _so wrong?_ Blaine sighed. "Um, okay. So – how does this work, exactly?"

 

"Meeting with me? Well, we talk. Just like we've been doing," Dr. Jacobson said. "If we decide that medication would benefit you, I have a partner who we can talk to about that. But I try not to take that avenue for a few visits at least, unless there's an immediate threat to your own or others' safety." She paused. "Do you think there's a threat there, Blaine?"

 

"I – no. I mean – I'm not suicidal, if that's what you're asking. Or – homicidal. I'm a little mad at Kurt, but I'd never hurt him …"

 

"Alright. If you ever feel that you're in danger of hurting yourself, or someone else, I want you to call 911 _._ You can also call me, if you feel safe doing that. Do you understand?"

 

Blaine nodded. "So – what do we talk about?"

 

"Whatever you'd like to."

 

"Oh. Okay." Blaine was quiet. "Um." _I'm sleeping on my friend's couch, I'm lazy and worthless and I walked out on my husband, and I hate myself._

"What about your email? Was there anything in it that you feel comfortable talking with me about?

 

"I –"

 

It was like his mind was playing tug-of-war with itself, half of him desperate to spout out every awful thing he'd done, every insecurity he had with himself. The other half was yelling at him in his father's voice, saying how childish he was being, telling him to man up and walk out of her office, that therapy was for crazy people, for _weaklings_.

 

"Not yet, I'm sorry, I just –"

 

"Blaine," Dr. Jacobson said, her voice gentle but firm, "what did I tell you about apologizing?"

 

"I know, I'm sorry –" He stopped, chuckling at himself. "I do that a lot."

 

"Apologize for things?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Do you want to talk about that?"

 

"… Not yet."

 

"Okay, well, why don't you tell me about yourself? What you do, what you like …"

 

And finally, that was something Blaine could do. Dr. Jacobson asked him questions, and he answered them, told her about the journals he'd kept in middle and high school, how they'd been the only way he could breathe some days. How he'd started college as a musical performance major and discovered creative writing his sophomore year, how that had snowballed into poetry, into stories, into his first novel.

 

He told her about Romeo, about how soft his fur was, how much he missed him – and that _why_ he missed him was a story for another day.

 

He didn't tell her about drinking to drown out the pain. He didn't tell her about Violet, how she'd stolen his heart faster than he ever imagined she would. He didn't tell her how he hated himself for walking out on Kurt, for doing nothing all day long.

 

He didn't tell her anything that mattered.

 

And by the end of the appointment, Blaine was squirming in his own skin, afraid that she would _know_ , that she'd be so disappointed in him for refusing to open up that she'd ask him not to come back. He really was a failure – he couldn't even do _therapy_ right.

 

"Blaine?" she said when he paused in the middle of a sentence. "You seem a little jumpy. Are you alright?"

 

"I'm just not very good at this."

 

"I don't think that this is something that you can be good or bad at."

 

"But – I don't want to talk about anything real –"

 

Dr. Jacobson smiled. "Everything you've just told me is _real_ , unless you've been lying to me this whole time. Have you been?"

 

"Well, no, but –" He trailed off. Were omissions lies? Did it count if he didn't want to talk about such painful things with a woman he'd only just met? Would he _ever_ be ready to talk about them?

 

"But what?" she asked after a long silence.

 

"I don't know!" he exclaimed, frustrated that he didn't know how to answer, frustrated that she wasn't being much help. "You ask me this stuff, and – I can't talk about it yet, I _can't_ , and I'm sorry – I want help, I want to feel better, I _do_ , but –"

 

"Blaine, it's okay."

 

"I'm sorry," he repeated, blinking fast as he looked down at the couch cushion. "I didn't mean to freak out …"

 

"Tell me something. Do you feel like you're disappointing me because you're not ready to talk about the hard stuff yet?"

 

" _Yes_ ," he said, relieved that he didn't have to try and explain it to her.

 

"Do I seem disappointed?"

 

He blinked at her. "Well … no, but –" He stopped. "I mean, I'm supposed to talk to you. Tell you stuff. Right?"

 

"You aren't _supposed_ to do anything. Later, when we get to know each other better, there may be times where I challenge you to do things that are a little uncomfortable. But this is our first meeting. These things don't fix themselves, and especially not in an hour."

 

He sighed again. "I just feel like I should –"

 

"Let me stop you right there, just for a second," she said kindly. "We don't use the word 'should' here. It implies obligation, and you're not obligated to _anything_ in here, okay? Try to stop using it at home, too."

 

"I'm sorry –" Dr. Jacobson raised her eyebrows, and Blaine groaned. "I know, I know, I'm – god, it's kind of a habit. Sorry." He laughed at himself. "I sound like a broken record."

 

"That's okay. We'll get there, if you're willing to try."

 

Blaine nodded. "I'd like to. I'll try to do better next time …"

 

"I don't know what you mean by better, but I'd love it if you gave yourself a break next time," she said, smiling at him. "Why don't we start by meeting once a week for now – and you and Kurt are doing couple's counseling, too, right?"

 

"Yeah – do you think that's a little excessive?" Blaine asked. "Meeting with you twice a week? I mean – am I that crazy?"

 

Dr. Jacobson tucked a piece of long hair behind her ear. "I don't like that word, either. You've been through severe emotional trauma this year. It's _normal_ to need help with dealing with something like that. It's _normal_ to have problems with your relationship when you've lost a child. And it's okay to cut yourself a little slack."

 

"I'm –" Blaine cut himself off just before the word 'sorry' slipped from his lips.

 

Dr. Jacobson smiled at him again. "See? You're catching on already." She paused. "Or did you only stop because you felt like I'd be disappointed if you said it again?"

 

Blaine gave her a sheepish look. "I think _you're_ the one catching on…"

 

"Like I said, we'll get there. Try to think of some things you might like to talk about next time, okay?"

 

Blaine nodded. "I'll do my best."

 

"I know you will. You can make an appointment with Tracy out at the desk for next week, okay?"

 

He nodded again, trying not to bolt from the room. He scheduled four weeks of consecutive appointments with Tracy, then ran straight to the gym where he spent an hour of quality time with the heavy bag, never even changing out of his jeans. When he went to sleep that night, he rubbed over his aching knuckles, trying not to think about how good it felt to hurt.

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, September 23 rd, 2023**

Blaine stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore yet another moan coming from Nick's bedroom. He'd been trying to sleep for an hour, but he'd been kept awake, initially by the sound of Nick talking to Jeff on Skype, but now it was something much more distracting. He really wished he'd skipped the gym that day – his earbuds had gotten into an unfortunate fight with a treadmill, and the treadmill had won.

 

" _Jeff … mmmmm, that's good –_ _wish you were here_ –"

 

Blaine sighed, tapping out a text to Kurt. He probably wasn't sleeping, either, and Blaine wanted someone to share his misery with.

**To: Kurt <3**

**I think I know a little too much about**

**Nick's virtual sex life.**

**From: Kurt <3**

**Oh?**

No. Kurt wasn't sleeping, either.

**To: Kurt <3**

**They've been Skyping every night. Um,**

**vigorously.**

**From: Kurt <3**

**Oh.**

**From: Kurt <3**

**Can you Skype vigorously?**

**To: Kurt <3**

**Shut up, you know what I meant.**

" _Jeff – fuck, want you inside me, want your fingers_ –"

 

Blaine wanted to clamp his hands over his ears. Nick was one of his best friends, and while he loved seeing him this happy with Jeff, he did _not_ care to know the particulars of what they did alone together.

**To: Kurt <3**

**Just for that, and because I don't want**

**to be the only bearer of this knowledge,**

**apparently Nick is dying for Jeff to fuck**

**him. Have fun with that mental image** **J**

**From: Kurt <3**

**TMI, Blaine.**

Blaine smiled. It was almost worth being kept up at night to carry on this banter with Kurt, but at the same time, it felt so bittersweet. He understood Kurt's point about not living together yet, and he didn't want to backtrack on the tentative steps they'd been taking toward each other lately either. But he _missed_ his husband, and even more than that, his best friend.

 

**To: Kurt <3**

**You should try being here. Noises, Kurt,**

**noises.**

**From: Kurt <3**

**What part of TMI don't you understand?**

**Not something I want to think about.**

**From: Kurt <3**

**To be honest, though, I think they're really**

**adorable together.**

**To: Kurt <3**

**Yeah, probably more adorable when you**

**can't hear the 'together' part, though.**

**From: Kurt <3**

**Lucky you ;)**

_I miss you,_ Blaine thought, _I miss you, I miss you, I miss you._

**From: Kurt <3**

**Okay, gotta go to bed – my eyes don't want**

**to stay open.**

**From: Kurt <3**

**Goodnight, husband. I love you.**

Blaine smiled at the screen, the simple five words exactly what he needed to hear from Kurt.

 

**To: Kurt <3**

**Goodnight, husband. I love you too.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Blaine turns 30, Burt has some words of advice, Kurt goes to the doctor, and therapy is really fucking hard.

**Chapter 26**

**Monday, September 25 th, 2023**

Blaine slowly felt himself drifting toward consciousness, tugging his blanket up higher as Kurt hummed a made-up melody in the kitchen, the scent of cinnamon rolls and coffee filling the air.

 

He sighed happily, rolling over and –

 

 _Wham_. Suddenly he found himself facedown on the ground, his knees smarting from hitting hardwood floor. He picked himself up and looked around, completely disoriented – he wasn't in his house; this was Nick's place, so why was Kurt in the kitchen –

 

"Blaine, man, you okay?" Nick asked, rushing into the room, a tie swinging untied around his neck.

 

"I fell off the couch," Blaine said dumbly.

 

"Yeah, I can tell. What happened?"

 

"I tried to roll over. Kurt –"

 

"You heard him, huh?"

 

Blaine blinked at him, confused. "I smell coffee. I need coffee."

 

Nick smiled. "It's in the kitchen. Listen, have a great day, okay? I've got to run to a meeting, but I'll see you tonight." Blaine stood perplexed, still in a sleep-induced haze, as Nick pulled him into a hug, clapping him on the back, then ran out the door.

 

He stared at Nick's retreating figure, then padded into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

 

"Good morning," Kurt said, his eyes twinkling.

 

"You're here." Blaine stood at the coffee pot, still confused.

 

"I am." Kurt's arms slipped around his waist, and he hooked his chin over Blaine's shoulder. "You're not supposed to be up yet, birthday boy."

 

"It's my birthday," Blaine said dumbly.

 

"It is. Happy Birthday, honey."

 

Blaine took a long drink of coffee. "Fuck, I'm thirty."

 

Kurt laughed. "Yep. Welcome to my world."

 

"Fuck." He paused. "I _feel_ thirty."

 

"Well, you're doing better than me – I feel about _fifty_ …"

 

Blaine turned his head and smiled at Kurt. "Thanks for this. It's a really nice surprise. Other than when I fell off the couch."

 

Kurt chuckled. "You're welcome. I hope you're okay with birthday cinnamon rolls. I can stick a candle in one if you want me to."

 

"Nah, that's okay. But will you try to eat one with me?"

 

"I'm not promising anything, but I'll try," Kurt said, kissing his cheek.

 

They sat at Nick's table, their feet occasionally brushing against each other as the cinnamon rolls finished baking.

 

"This reminds me of the first year we were in the city," Blaine mused, staring at the ceiling and picturing their first tiny kitchen. "You insisted on always making me breakfast before class, remember?"

 

Kurt laughed. "Yeah, that lasted all of 2 months, until I realized that more sleep and a bowl of cereal were probably better ideas."

 

Blaine opened his eyes and smiled at Kurt. "Those were good times, weren't they?"

 

"Mmm, I miss them sometimes," Kurt said, fiddling with his coffee cup. "Even though we basically lived off of love, sex and Ramen noodles. I still can't believe we paid three quarters of our budget in rent."

 

"Oh my god, I know – do you remember that time we ran out of lube and you came up with the idea to borrow some Crisco from the neighbors until we could afford to get more?"

 

Kurt burst into laughter. "I told them we were making a pie! Oh, I'd forgotten all about that …"

 

Blaine gazed at Kurt's face, the way his eyes crinkled as he laughed, his lips pulling back to expose a rare glimpse of a set of perfect white teeth. He used to be able to make Kurt laugh like that all the time. "We were so in love back then …"

 

Kurt's face turned somber. "Were?"

 

"I – Kurt, that's not what I –"

 

"We'll work on it, okay?" Kurt said, smiling sadly and squeezing Blaine's hand just as the kitchen timer went off, signaling that the cinnamon rolls were done. Blaine had to physically restrain himself from banging his head on the table when Kurt disappeared from view.

 

Were _, you idiot, why did you have to say that –_

 

"They came out perfect, Blaine, just wait until you see!" Kurt called happily from the kitchen. He emerged a few minutes later with a platter full of rolls, thick icing dripping down the sides.

 

"Oh my god, they look amazing," Blaine said, his mouth beginning to water. He took two rolls and set them on the plate Kurt had laid out for him, and Kurt tore off half of one and began slowly picking at it.

 

"You know, it's always been so funny to me that you cut up your cinnamon rolls with a knife and a fork," Kurt said, grinning.

 

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "I cut up almost everything with a knife and a fork. You know it's a left over habit from all those cotillions my parents made me go to."

 

"I know. It's cute."

 

Blaine shrugged, stabbing a bite of gooey goodness with his fork, closing his eyes and savoring it as it melted on his tongue. "Mmmm, Kurt, that's so good …"

 

"I'm glad," Kurt smiled, tearing off a little bite and popping it in his mouth. "I hope you're not upset – I feel really bad about this, but I didn't get you an actual gift this year."

 

"Oh, Kurt, I never would have expected one," Blaine said. "I mean, _I_ almost forgot –"

 

"I didn't forget," Kurt said. "I just thought – god, this might be completely idiotic –"

 

"What?"

 

"Well, I was just wondering if you might like a kiss. As your birthday present, I mean. Since it's been a while …"

 

Blaine's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

 

"Yeah … unless youdon't want one …"

 

"Kurt." Blaine suddenly felt all wobbly on the inside. "I – yes. I do. Want one."

 

"Oh. Okay," Kurt said, blushing as he tore off another piece of cinnamon roll. "Well, now this is awkward. I mean. Do we –"

 

"Kurt. We," Blaine said, his heart dancing beneath his ribs, "have been kissing each other for thirteen years. I think we should be past the awkward stage by now."

 

"I – you're right." Kurt's face was still flushed, red all the way to the tips of his ears. "You just finish your cinnamon rolls, and then –"

 

"I don't want to finish my cinnamon rolls." It came out lower, hungrier than he intended, and Blaine wasn't sure what was wrong with him. Actually, he _did_ know what was wrong with him – he'd been listening to Nick get off with Jeff over Skype through his terribly thin bedroom door for the last two nights, he still hadn't bought new earbuds, he'd had no sexual contact except for a few encounters with his right hand in _weeks_ , and his husband, flushed pink and gorgeous in front of him, was offering to kiss him.

 

"O – Oh," Kurt stammered. "Okay."

 

"Is that okay?" Blaine asked, trying to use what little blood was left in his brain to be rational, gentlemanly. The rest of him wanted to climb Kurt like a tree.

 

"Yeah. Yeah, sure, let me just –"

 

"Kurt."

 

"Hmm?"

 

"It's my birthday present, right?" Blaine asked.

 

"Well, yes …"

 

"Then I want it now." He scooted his chair back and strode over to Kurt, helping him up before latching his hand onto the back of Kurt's head. He wanted to burn the seal of his lips onto Kurt's memory, to make him want more, to make him remember.

 

Blaine slowly, resolutely closed the space between his and Kurt's mouths, dragging his lips over Kurt's in a sensuous caress. Kurt made a little squeaky noise at the contact, but relaxed into it as Blaine sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, tugging lightly on it with his teeth.

 

" _Blaine_ –" Kurt whispered, breaking away and breathing hard.

 

" _God_ I miss you," Blaine groaned, tipping Kurt's head back to give him a straight path down Kurt's jaw and neck. He walked Kurt backwards, only stopping when his back had hit the wall.

 

"Oh my god," Kurt breathed, yanking Blaine's face away from his neck and up to his mouth, where their lips locked once again. There was nothing tentative about it, nothing awkward, just pure, lustful _want._ Blaine's entire body was thrumming like a live wire. Kurt was everywhere, it seemed – licking into his mouth, tugging on his hair, rubbing against his thigh. "Oh, Blaine – oh god –"

 

"Fuck, Kurt – I want –" Blaine grunted, tucking his head down and pulling Kurt's sweater away to suck a bruise into his collarbone. The skin was soft, pale and sensitive, and a dark purple spot formed within a few seconds of careful nipping. Kurt whined under his mouth and the gentle, blunt pressure of his teeth, and Blaine wanted to eat him alive. "Goddamn, you're hot."

 

"Couch," Kurt gasped, hanging on tight as Blaine hoisted him up. Blaine was pleased with the weight that he felt – Kurt felt solid in his arms, his ass not quite as skeletal, his thighs a tiny bit thicker than the bird-like stilts he'd been walking around on. He staggered across the room, dumping Kurt on the cushions, climbing up in his lap.

 

 _I missed you. I missed you, I missed you, I missed you_ , Blaine tried to convey with his tongue as it slid alongside Kurt's. His mouth was wet and warm and delicious, tasting vaguely of frosting, and Blaine tried to relearn every ridge, every bump, every crest of the inside of Kurt's mouth. Then Kurt flipped him onto his back in an impressive display of strength for someone who wasn't eating much, straddling his hips, and Blaine's cock, bare and very, very hard under a thin layer of flannel pajama pants, jumped to meet Kurt's. Blaine groaned as Kurt pulled the neck of his t-shirt down and practically attacked any skin he could find there.

 

" _Ohhh_ ," Blaine groaned as his hips jerked up in perfect 4/4 time. "Happy birthday to me …" He nudged Kurt's hand, and once Kurt was properly balanced, he took it and slipped Kurt's middle finger into his mouth, sucking hard.

 

" _Ahhh_ ," Kurt moaned, " _Fuck –_ wait, Blaine, stop –" He was panting as he withdrew his finger, his hand, his whole body from atop Blaine's.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"I –" Kurt gestured to his pants, the bulge in the front obvious to Blaine's knowing eyes. "Can we slow down? I just – I'm not quite ready for this yet …"

 

Blaine would never push Kurt to do something he didn't want to, but he was so turned on that he could cry. "Yeah. Yeah, of course we can – did I do something?"

 

"No!" Kurt exclaimed. "You maybe did … too much? I just – I –"

 

"Kurt, you don't have to explain," Blaine said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "But – I am going to get a glass of water. I – I might need a minute, you know, away from you –"

 

Kurt's brow furrowed. "Why?"

 

"You look like sex personified right now," Blaine chuckled. "I just – I can't look at you without wanting to get off, so just give me a minute to get myself under control, and I'll be right back, okay?"

 

Blaine walked into the kitchen, his cock rubbing uncomfortably against the flannel, and drank a tall glass of water, thinking of IRS forms, trying to remember the quadratic equation. Finally after the third repetition of the _x is equal to negative b_ song, his tented pajama pants grew flat again, and his breath came without stuttering out of him like a jackhammer.

 

Kurt looked more composed when he emerged as well, and they managed to finish their cinnamon rolls without any particularly awkward moments. They talked casually, carefully skirting the subject of how badly they still wanted to be kissing each other, up until Kurt had to leave for his appointment with Dr. Jacobson. It was nice, exchanging small talk. Blaine almost felt like he had his best friend back.

 

But as soon as the door closed behind him, Blaine reached in his pajama bottoms and had his cock in his hand before he even made it through the bathroom door. He grabbed the closest thing he could find – a bottle of conditioner, it turned out, and frantically thrust into his fist until he came so hard he couldn't stand, streaking ropes of come across the toilet seat. He sat down hard on the tile floor, leaning against the bathtub, and whispered Kurt's name as his breathing slowed.

 

* * *

 

"God, it's good to hear your voice, son. You still don't call often enough, you know that?"

 

"I know, Dad," Kurt sighed, leaning back in the recliner, propping his socked feet on the coffee table. "It's good to hear your voice, too."

 

"What's the occasion? You okay? You need me to fly out there?"

 

"No, you stay in Ohio with Carole. I'm fine." He paused. "I'm a little lonely tonight, is all. I just wanted someone to talk to." Kurt was by himself that night – Rachel was gone for the evening, on a 'hot date that could actually turn _into_ something, Kurt!' which left him with only a dog and his thoughts for company, and his thoughts weren't necessarily so friendly that evening.

 

"Blaine still not back?"

 

"No, not yet," he said.

 

Burt grunted. "It's his birthday today. You see him?"

 

"This morning. We – things are getting better. Slowly, but they are."

 

"I'm glad to hear it. You think he'd be okay if Carole and I called him tonight, wished him happy birthday?"

 

"I think he'd love that," Kurt said, smiling. "Dad, I started my therapy today."

 

"Oh, yeah? And how'd that go?"

 

"It was …" Kurt trailed off, thinking of the kind woman with the atrocious fringed tunic and moccasins. It had been uncomfortable, the way she'd smiled at the detailed list of talking points he'd brought, how she'd asked him off the bat if he liked to be in control of things. Didn't everybody like to be in control of things? "It was okay."

 

"They push your buttons?" Burt asked.

 

Kurt chuckled. "One could say that."

 

"Good. Sometimes your buttons need pushing. That's what gets you better, y'know?"

 

"Yeah. That's what I'm hoping for." He paused. "We talked about Mom, a little. And I told her about you."

 

"Yeah? Hopefully all good things."

 

"Dad, you have no idea – you're the reason I made it through high school. You're the reason I'm in New York right now. You – I wouldn't have _survived_ without you." Kurt curled his knees up sideways in the recliner, trying not to get too emotional.

 

He heard Burt sigh. " _You're_ the reason you made it through, Kurt. And _you're_ gonna be the reason you make it through this, too. You're the strongest man I know."

 

"No, seriously, you're not giving yourself enough credit. There's no way – if you were like Blaine's father –" Kurt grimaced, just thinking about it. "I literally don't think I would've made it. I told her that."

 

"If I was like Blaine's dad, you would've had every excuse to punch me in the balls. I wish Blaine had done it."

 

Kurt laughed in spite of himself. "You and me too."

 

"Speaking of Blaine … is he going too? To therapy?"

 

"He is – and we start couple's therapy the end of this week."

 

Burt laughed. "Good luck to that therapist of yours – I'd pay a hundred bucks to anybody who gets that boy to open up."

 

"Well, we're kind of doing that already," Kurt said, thinking of the co-pay he'd made that afternoon. "Don't be too hard on him when you call him tonight, please. Neither one of us has handled this particularly well … he didn't mean anything by leaving."

 

"I know. It's just about time he came back, don't you think?"

 

"I told him not to, not yet. Dad, I miss him _so much_ , it's like there's a hole in my heart – but like I've told him, when he comes back, it has to be for good. I can't see him walk out that door again, even if it's just temporary – it would kill me. And I want to do this right, with the counseling and everything. I want us to work. I don't want to imagine a life without him …"

 

"I know you don't, kiddo. I don't want that for you, either. But you're gonna be fine. It's just – hell, you know I love him, but it's really damn hard to sit by and watch all this. Even when I know that he'll come back eventually."

 

Kurt closed his eyes. "Do you really think we'll be okay?"

 

"You still love him?"

 

" _So_ much."

 

"And he still loves you?"

 

"He says he does."

 

"Then, yeah, I think you'll be okay."

 

Kurt pulled a fleece throw over his lap. "Okay."

 

"Are you sure you don't want me to come up there?" Burt asked. "You know I would."

 

"Yeah, I know. But if things go like I hope they will, Blaine and I should both be coming home for the holidays."

 

"That's an awfully long time."

 

"I know. Just – give us a little more space? I feel like we need to do this on our own."

 

Burt sighed. "That's the hardest thing about watching your kids grow up. Staying put. Realizing we can't come running whenever you get in trouble …"

 

"Dad," Kurt said, his voice thick with emotion, "you have no idea how much it helps, just knowing you're only a phone call away …"

 

"I always will be, kiddo."

 

 _Not always,_ Kurt thought sadly, thinking of his mother, of Burt's heart attacks. _But god, I wish you could be._ "I love you."

 

"Love you too. Now, Carole and I need to get ahold of that vagabond husband of yours."

 

"I think he's getting tired of being a vagabond, at least."

 

"Good. You boys put in the work, and he'll be back at home in no time," Burt said optimistically. "Have a good night, son."

 

"Thanks, Dad," Kurt said, hanging up the phone and leaning all the way back in his chair. He could almost go to sleep like this, the blanket in his lap, Romeo breathing rhythmically at his feet. He was emotionally spent, between what had transpired with Blaine that morning and the therapy itself. It unnerved him a little, how well Dr. Jacobson could read him after only an hour, and he was a ball of nerves about the physical she'd encouraged him to schedule for later that week, to assess his health after several months of malnutrition.

 

But as tired as he was, he was hopeful too. His relationship with Blaine was slowly climbing back onto more stable ground. And though his appointment with Dr. Jacobson was terrifying, he genuinely liked her and felt that his chances at getting his life back were a little bit higher with her on his team.

 

He wiggled lower into the recliner, tucking the blanket higher around his chin, and let himself drift into the place between wake and sleep, waiting for the text that he knew Blaine would send after he got off the phone with his dad and Carole.

 

* * *

 

"Blaine. Happy Birthday!"

 

"Oh my god, Carole!" Blaine exclaimed the moment he recognized her voice over the phone. "Hi!"

 

"Hi, sweetie. Have you had a good day?"

 

Blaine paused to take a bite of the cupcake Nick brought home for him. "Mostly. I mean, I did turn thirty. I don't know how well that could have ever gone."

 

"Oh, thirty's nothing," she scoffed. "Just wait till you hit 55, like Burt did this year – he gets offended every time they try to give him a senior citizen discount."

 

Blaine laughed, but a wave of unease washed over him at the mention of Burt's name. He loved his father-in-law as if he were his own dad, but Burt could still put the fear of god in him, and that was before he walked out on Burt's son …

 

Suddenly the cupcake didn't look so appetizing anymore.

 

"So, uh, are you guys doing okay? I know I haven't been very good about keeping in touch –"

 

"We're doing fine," she said. Blaine could hear the motherly smile in her voice. "The house still feels a little empty with none of our boys there, but – oh, _shoot_ , Blaine honey, I've got to go, my green beans are boiling over – here, talk to Burt –"

 

And with no warning or time to prepare, Blaine heard his father-in-law's stern voice in his ear. "Blaine." He was glad they weren't face-to-face.

 

"Burt. Um. Hi." Blaine rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he paced Nick's small living room, his cupcake long forgotten.

 

"You have a good birthday, son?"

 

"I – Burt, I'm sorry. I did what I promised I wouldn't ever do when I asked for your blessing before we got married, and I – I think my therapist thinks that I apologize too much, but this is actually something that warrants an apology, and –"

 

"Blaine."

 

He stopped in front of the window and stared out at the bright lights of the city, trying to remind himself of forward motion, of light.

 

"Yes, sir?"

 

Burt sighed. "I asked you a question. You gonna answer it, or babble at me for the rest of the night?"

 

"I –" Blaine paused. "It was okay."

 

"Turning thirty freak you out?"

 

He took a deep breath, let it out again. "Completely."

 

"You'll live through it, just like I did," Burt said. "Your gift should be there in the next day or two, but it'll come to your and Kurt's place, 'cause I don't know where you're staying right now."

 

Blaine stood still, unsure of whether to argue about getting a gift after everything he'd done to Kurt or apologize for not being where he was supposed to be.

 

"Sir, about that –" he said, deciding that the latter was more important, but Burt didn't let him finish.

 

"Blaine, I have one thing to say to you about that, and after that, I don't want to hear you falling all over yourself trying to apologize, alright?"

 

"Okay …"

 

"This therapy you're going to right now? You don't fuck around with it."

 

Blaine blinked. _That_ certainly wasn't what he was expecting to hear. "I –"

 

"I'm not done. You go every week, or however often the lady wants you to go, and you let yourself cry or take your meds or whatever the hell you need to do, and you work your _ass_ off. And after that, if you and my son can't reconcile a way to be together, fine. But you don't go without a fight; you understand me?"

 

"I – Burt, I –"

 

"It's gonna be hard. And it's gonna hurt a hell of a lot and it's gonna make you talk about things and look at things about yourself that you're never gonna want to see. You're probably gonna want to quit at some point. I'm telling you right now – _don't_."

 

"I won't," Blaine said quietly.

 

"See, here's the thing, Blaine," Burt continued. "Even if you and Kurt don't work – even if Kurt wasn't in the picture at all – you still owe it to yourself to go. Because I don't think you've ever understood how much worth you have by yourself. How much you mean to people. I think the only value you've ever let yourself have is what Kurt gave you, like you were worth something just because Kurt loved you. I'm telling you now, you're worth a _lot_ , with or without my son."

 

Blaine was quiet as he sank onto the couch, running his fingers over the soft, textured material.

 

"You still with me?"

 

"I – yeah."

 

"So you promise you'll take your therapy seriously?"

 

"I promise," Blaine said. He felt a little shell-shocked, like Burt had just reached in and grabbed the secrets stored in his soul, pulling them out and exposing them to the air.

 

"Good."

 

"I – I'm not leaving him," Blaine said. "I couldn't leave him."

 

"I know," Burt said, the smirk audible in his voice. "Love you, kiddo. Happy birthday."

 

* * *

 

**Wednesday, September 27 th, 2023**

Blaine was mindlessly stirring a pot of macaroni and cheese, staring at the wall behind the stove, when Nick got home from work two evenings later.

 

"Hey, man, how was therapy today?" Nick asked as he shrugged off his jacket.

 

Blaine shut his eyes. If every Wednesday was going to be like this, with everyone he knew asking how his appointment had gone and was he feeling okay, he thought he might completely lose his mind.

 

"I don't really want to talk about it," he mumbled, giving the mac and cheese a harder stir.

 

It had been a difficult hour with Dr. Jacobson that afternoon as they'd hashed out a list of topics to guide the beginning of Blaine's therapy. It was disheartening, in spite of her reassurances, to watch the list grow longer and longer. Blaine felt increasingly hopeless as his issues became visible, written down on a page in his own script. His task for the week to come was to pay attention to his thoughts, listen to his inner voice, and make notes in regards to what he was telling himself _about_ himself. In the first half hour following his appointment, he'd become increasingly aware that his inner voice wasn't a particularly nice one to listen to.

 

And after two and a half hours of listening, he was exhausted.

 

"Okay, that's cool," Nick said, opening the fridge and grabbing an apple out of the fruit drawer. "You saving some of that mac and cheese for me, too?"

 

"Sure," Blaine answered flatly, giving the pot one final stir. With that simple question, his mind was off on a self-loathing rabbit trail again. He sighed heavily, pulled a little notepad out of his back pocket, and started writing.

 

_You're lazy. You should've made a better dinner for Nick tonight. You're selfish – you didn't even think of him when you chose mac and cheese. He's working, you're not, and you're taking up his space and his time. You owe him. You're a terrible friend._

He stared down at the page for a moment, then closed his eyes. When he opened them again, a smile was plastered on his face.

 

"Okay, here we go!" he said brightly, reaching to retrieve two bowls from the cabinet above his head. "Sorry it's not something more substantial, I should've planned better –"

 

"Blaine. It's okay. It's not like I cook four-course meals for myself or anything," Nick said, placing a hand on his shoulder. He cocked his head warily. "Are you okay, man?"

 

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Blaine said, still smiling. _Just keep smiling. Everything will be okay if you keep smiling._

 

"…Okay." As they walked to the table after Blaine filled their bowls, Nick said, "So, I want your opinion about something."

 

"Sure, what is it?"

 

"Jeff and I want to see each other again this weekend. I could go to Chicago, or he could come here. And – I didn't know if you'd like to be by yourself for a couple of days or not, so which do you think?"

 

"I –"

 

_You should say Chicago._

_Should is a bad word._

_Nick needs time with Jeff._

_You don't need to be alone._

_It doesn't matter._

_You matter – Burt told you, remember?_

_You don't want to hear them having sex through Nick's door._

_You also don't want to do something crazy like driving yourself to the point of binge drinking again._

Blaine wanted to put his hands over his ears, but it was useless – it was his own voice that he was fighting with.

 

"Blaine?"

 

He took a deep breath, remembering Burt's words, remembering the promise he'd made to work and do the hard things and not quit. He decided to be brave.

 

"I – don't think I need to be alone this weekend," he said, the words coming from his mouth as slow as molasses. "It's, um, it's kind of hard, realizing exactly how awful to yourself you are." He tried for a self-deprecating chuckle, but a grunt came out in its place, and he cast his eyes down toward the floor.

 

"You need a hug," Nick said decisively, and Blaine found himself being pulled up from his chair and tugged into Nick's arms.

 

Blaine's face was smashed a little uncomfortably into Nick's shoulder, so that he had to tilt his head sort of sideways in order to breathe. Nick's arms were around his ribcage, constricting him a little, and the way he'd been standing when Nick had latched onto him left his back a little crooked, making one spot just to the left of his lumbar area ache a little.

 

But in spite of all that, Blaine felt safe and comforted and loved, and he wasn't entirely surprised when a dry, choking sob erupted from his throat.

 

" _Shhh_ ," Nick whispered in his ear. "It's okay, Blaine. You don't have to talk about it –"

 

"I'm supposed to write down all the negative thoughts I have about myself this week," he blurted, his voice thick and muffled by Nick's sweater. "It's been like three hours, and I have four pages in this fucking notepad already." He loosed himself from Nick's grasp, pulled the notepad from his pocket and shook it at his friend. "What kind of person _does_ that? I never even noticed before …"

 

"Blaine –"

 

"And you know what really sucks, what hurts really _fucking_ bad, is that a lot of this is from my parents," Blaine barreled on, unable to stop venting now that he'd started. He felt like a balloon deflating very slowly through a pinprick hole – the more words he let out, the less pressure he felt. "Apparently you can't go through your entire childhood being told you should do better, be better, that this thing that you're born with is inherently _wrong_ and _bad,_ without it seriously messing you up. Do you know that 'should' is an unhealthy word, Nick?"

 

"I –"

 

"Do you know that? Because I didn't. They used it the whole time I was growing up. 'You should always look nice and be polite, Blaine. The first impression you make on people is the most important.' 'You should always respect women, because someday, one of them will be your wife, Blaine.' 'You shouldn't _tell_ anyone, Blaine – no one will know unless you tell them. You're not like those other _faggy_ gay guys …'" He paused, his voice growing softer, pained. "'You shouldn't marry him, Blaine – that Kurt boy is nice, but do you really want to be associated with someone like him for the rest of your life? Think of your writing career, honey …'"

 

"Blaine …" Nick trailed off as he pulled him in for a hug again. This one was gentler, a hand rubbing his back, and Blaine let himself slump against Nick's chest.

 

"I wasn't ever good enough," he said, sounding as wounded as he felt. "I'm _still_ not good enough."

 

"For who?" Nick asked.

 

This time, Blaine managed a laugh. "I have no idea." He sighed, squeezed Nick around his waist, then freed himself and dropped back into the kitchen chair. He felt like Atlas, forced to hold up the heavens as his punishment, the weight of the whole sky on his shoulders. "I'm sorry about this. This is just – it's _hard_ , Nick. I didn't mean to explode like that…"

 

Nick gave him a half-smile, dropping into his chair as well and sliding his bowl in front of him. "I'd rather see you break down than bottle everything up like you've been doing. And it's a lot better than coming home to find you plastered, I have to say. If I'm gonna be dealing with bodily fluids, I'd much rather have tears than puke."

 

Oh, the guilt. It washed over him like a tidal wave, pushing him harder into his seat, surrounding him and hissing in his ears.

 

"I'm so sorry about that."

 

Out came the notepad.

 

_What's wrong with you? You stay in his home, eat his food, make things awkward for his new boyfriend and him, and you repay him with drunken binges and vomit? You are a scumbag. You're a bad person. Kurt doesn't want you to move home because he doesn't want to deal with that …_

 

Nick was looking at Blaine when he looked up from his notebook, and shrugged casually. "It happens. No big deal," Nick said. "Plenty of people cleaned up after me when I was in college, and I didn't even have a _reason_ to get wasted." He took a bite of his mac and cheese. "You know," he said, swallowing, "I think it'd be good for you to hang out with Kurt this weekend while Jeff is here. And – before you say anything – that's not me trying to get you out of here so we can be _alone_. I really think it'd do you good."

 

"You think?"

 

"Yeah. Kurt's always been the best at getting through to you. And you guys haven't spent any actual quality time with each other in a while, have you? Other than your birthday, I mean."

 

"Well … no, we haven't. But I guess we'll have to see how therapy goes on Friday. I don't even know what to expect."

 

"I'm sure it will involve talking about your _feelings_ ," Nick grinned.

 

Blaine smacked his arm. "Shut up. It's harder than it sounds."

 

"I know it is. But I think you'll be fine. And it'll give you a guaranteed hour with Kurt every week! That's nice, right?"

 

It would be, if the Kurt at therapy was anything like the Kurt on his birthday, but there was no guarantee there … "Yeah, that'll be great as long as we don't fight the entire time."

 

"Hey, chin up. It'll be fine," Nick said, reaching across the table to pat him on the shoulder. "And if it's not – well, just call me on your way home and I'll pick up some ice cream and a movie, okay?"

 

Blaine smiled. "You sound like Rachel. I mean, prior to her becoming a she-devil and totally ripping me apart …"

 

"Oh, god, do I?" Nick said, a worried look coming across his face. "That's terrifying."

 

"It'd probably be scarier if you broke out into a number from _Funny Girl_ ," Blaine said, managing a smile.

 

Nick grinned, and jumped up on the seat of his chair. " _Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter … Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter … Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade …_ " he sang in a perfect tenor, throwing his hands to the sides in true Rachel Berry fashion.

 

Blaine laughed out loud. "Bravo," he said, clapping his hands. "That was actually really impressive …"

 

"Thank you," Nick said, hopping off the chair and taking a little bow before returning to his bowl. "But – let's keep that between us, okay? I'd like to avoid her wrath, if possible."

 

"Yeah, it's a scary thing to behold … and that's kind of _her_ song." Blaine paused, scooping up a forkful of macaroni and cheese. "Hey Nick?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"Thanks, for this. For – everything. The couch. The food. The endless amount of patience …"

 

"And thank _you_ for helping me figure out things with Jeff and for giving me somebody to hang with in this kind of terrifyingly enormous city," Nick said. "I don't know why you keep acting like you owe me something – you don't."

 

"But I –"

 

"No, Blaine, _seriously_ – we're friends, okay? We had each other's backs in school, and we have each other's backs now. That's how it's supposed to work. This whole obligation thing –"

 

"Yeah. I'm working on that," Blaine sighed. "I'm sorry."

 

"Blaine, I swear, I will give you a cookie for every time that you _don't_ apologize to me," Nick chuckled.

 

"Oh – yeah, I'm working on that, too. Or, I'm supposed to be. That one's kind of hard."

 

"You'll get there." Nick gobbled up the last several bites of mac and cheese, then stood to take his bowl to the sink. "And I'll be here until you do."

 

* * *

 

**Friday, September 29 th, 2023**

Kurt was running late. He was sitting on the floor of his bedroom among a pile of sweaters and shirts and scarves, but instead of rummaging through them like he'd been doing for the past half hour, he'd all but given up. His knees were pulled to his chest, and he was staring listlessly at a green Hermes scarf that Blaine had given him for Christmas two years prior.

 

It was just – this check-up, the one he was running late to, which would then put them late for their couples' therapy (and would Dr. Jacobson kick them out for that?) – scared him to death. He knew that Dr. Jacobson had spoken with this doctor already, knew what was expected of him. It would just be a series of blood tests, a physical exam, and then a discussion about the best way to get him to eat more. Blaine was coming with him – Blaine would be arriving any second, actually, and he _still_ wasn't fully dressed – but he was terrified all the same.

 

Because what if, amid all the nausea, the weeks of consuming only pretzels and crackers and the occasional tub of yogurt, he'd done serious damage to – he didn't know what, wasn't the thymus gland a body part? What if he'd killed off his thymus gland? What if there wasn't a good way to curb the nausea that continued to sneak up on him, ruining his meals and increasing his anxiety? He was learning to live with it, and Rachel's protein shakes had maybe literally saved his life, but he'd much rather live a life where food didn't threaten to come back up in his throat every time he ate.

 

He was still pondering this, still half-dressed, when Blaine's voice rang out, sounding strangely unfamiliar but beautiful as he called out across the condo.

 

"Kurt! You ready to go?"

 

"No," Kurt answered miserably, picking at an invisible thread on his pants.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

He turned around to see Blaine's head in the doorway of the bedroom. "I think I might be having a meltdown," he said.

 

"I can see that. Your scarves are on the _floor_ , Kurt."

 

"I know. I mopped last night, but still …"

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"I can't find anything to wear."

 

Blaine gave him a look. "I don't believe that for a second. What's _actually_ wrong?"

 

Kurt had a fleeting feeling of comfort as he realized that Blaine could still see straight through his lies, then the apprehension over his doctor's appointment came back full-force. "I'm scared," he said.

 

"Of what?"

 

"A broken thymus," Kurt chuckled to himself.

 

"…What?"

 

"I – never mind. I'm just – nervous I guess. That something major will be wrong with me. Or that they can't fix whatever's been going on…" He sighed heavily, fingering a silk ascot. "And now I'm running late and they're going to kick me out and not help me at all."

 

"You really think they'd do that?"

 

Kurt looked up at Blaine, who had his head cocked and his eyebrows raised. "Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic …" he admitted.

 

"Maybe a little," Blaine agreed, extending his hand for Kurt to take. "Come on, up up up. You're gonna be fine, Kurt."

 

"You really think so?" Kurt asked, taking his outstretched hand, his stomach doing a little swoop inside him as Blaine pulled him to his feet with barely any effort.

 

"I really do."

 

Kurt placed his hand on his hip and surveyed the mess on the floor. "So, I might've gotten a little carried away …"

 

"Do you expect me to be surprised?"

 

Kurt grinned. "No, I guess not."

 

"Mmm, I guess not is right," Blaine said with a grin. "I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I married you. Come on, my modern-day Beau Brummel, let's find you something to wear."

 

* * *

 

"Well, that was fairly painless," Kurt said, holding Blaine's hand as they walked down the sidewalk, the brisk fall breeze making Blaine's cardigan flutter.

 

Much to Kurt's relief, his thymus was not damaged, nor were any of his other major organs. Aside from some mild anemia that the doctor said could be easily fixed with an iron supplement, Kurt left the building with a clean bill of health and a prescription for an anti-nausea medication.

 

"I told you it'd be okay," Blaine said with a smile.

 

"Thanks for coming with me." Kurt gave Blaine's hand a squeeze and gently nudged his shoulder. "It makes it easier, having a needle buddy."

 

"What, somebody to talk to so you're too distracted to look at the needle?"

 

"Yep." Kurt thought fondly of Blaine's smiling face, steadily fixed on his own as they sat in the lab while Kurt tried not to look at the blue tourniquet wrapped around his arm. Blaine had been a dream, regaling him with happy memories of their college antics and a story from their wedding reception that somehow he'd never heard before. He barely felt the prick when the lab tech stuck his arm.

 

"Kurt, I'd never let you go to an appointment like that by yourself," Blaine told him. "I'll be your needle buddy anytime."

 

"Thanks," Kurt grinned.

 

Blaine sighed, scuffing his shoe against the ground. "Well, that's one down, one to go…"

 

"Don't do that, honey – you're going to ruin those shoes, and I know how much you like them," Kurt scolded gently. "But, yeah, you're right. One to go."

 

"You don't sound very enthused," Blaine said. "At least there's no poking at Dr. Jacobson's office."

 

"True," Kurt said, silently adding, _But there might be a lot of stabbing me in the heart_. He was scared – worried that Dr. Jacobson would take Blaine's side over his, worried that their therapy sessions would become opportunities to cast blame and yell at each other some more. They were still so hesitant around each other – he didn't want to undo what little progress they'd made.

 

"Come on," Blaine prodded, squeezing his hand. "Let's go talk about our feelings."

 

* * *

 

It was thirty minutes into their session, and Kurt and Blaine were in the middle of a stand-off. They were sitting on opposite ends of the squishy white couch, and Kurt felt like there was a solid wall between them. Blaine's arms were crossed, his eyes dark and stormy, and Kurt just felt _defeated_.

 

The appointment had started out nicely – Dr. Jacobson had asked for a brief history of their relationship, how they met, when they'd gotten married. Kurt had smiled shyly as he recounted being tugged awkwardly down the hall at Dalton, and Blaine had gotten teary as he recalled the sight of Kurt down on one knee before him, proposing. They'd talked a little about why they loved each other, why they chose to get married, and then Dr. Jacobson brought up the subject of trust.

 

They squirmed and hemmed and hawed, but she finally dragged out of both of them that no, they didn't really trust each other anymore. Their hands, joined in between their laps, separated, and their shackles came up as they scooted away from each other.

 

"Okay, do either of you have any idea where this dissolution of trust started? Was it gradual, or was there a certain thing –"

 

Blaine laughed dryly. "No, I can tell you, like, the _exact moment_ I stopped trusting him. It might've had something to do with the fact that he _lied_ to me, and then took apart the nursery without ever asking me about it. He was going to _sell_ her _stuff_."

 

Kurt bristled. "Yeah, and then you walked out on me, which is the one thing we always promised never to do to each other."

 

"What was I supposed to do?" Blaine demanded, turning to Dr. Jacobson. "How would _you_ have acted? He made me feel used and cheated, and he looked at me like I was this _monster_ –"

 

Kurt sank deeper into his couch cushion.

 

"So yeah, I blew a gasket – I was fine until he touched her stuff, and then _kaboom_ , Blaine goes crazy _again_. But – god, it was like he was throwing her away –" Blaine looked like an injured animal, his eyes wide and shining, his posture defensive, shoulders hunched, arms crossed. "I don't think I can talk about this anymore."

 

"Okay, Blaine," Dr. Jacobson said. "So what we'll do now is have Kurt summarize what you just said, and then you can offer clarification if you need to. It's called active listening, if you want to be technical, but all it does is help to prevent miscommunications. It'll give you both a chance to see how the other is perceiving what you say, okay?"

 

They both nodded sullenly.

 

"So, Kurt," she said, turning to him, "What did you _hear_ Blaine say?"

 

He hung his head. "I lied to him," he said, feeling a terrible sense of guilt curl deep in his belly. "I broke his trust, I didn't listen to him when he asked me not to touch Violet's things. I – I made him feel like a monster, like I was getting rid of our baby –" His voice broke. "And it was my fault that he left."

 

"Blaine?"

 

Kurt felt his husband shift uncomfortably on the other end of the couch. "I mean – shit, you asked me how I felt, that's how I feel. I –" he trailed off. "It sounds worse when you're the one saying it."

 

"Okay. Can we hear Kurt's side of things now? Will you listen to him?"

 

Blaine scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I think I know the story from there, but sure, I'll listen."

 

Kurt fought back tears, his pulse pounding in his ears, as he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Blaine – I know it was wrong, I know I shouldn't have done anything with her room –"

 

"Kurt," Dr. Jacobson said gently, "we can talk about apologies later. Right now I just want to hear what happened."

 

Kurt closed his eyes. "I was trying to help," he said. "I thought it would help us move on …" He paused, taking a deep breath. "Everything he said is true. I did fake being sick so I could have time alone in the condo. I did take her crib apart, and I stacked all her stuff in piles, and –" He swallowed heavily. "I did spring it on him. I did. But when Blaine got home, he yelled at me like he's never yelled at me before, ever. It's the closest I've ever been to being _scared_ of him." He heard Blaine suck in a breath on the couch beside him. "Then he packed a suitcase. I was –" Kurt stopped. He didn't want to go there, didn't want to face the feelings of desperation that still sometimes haunted his dreams. "I don't know how to explain how it felt, watching him. Like – every time he put something in that stupid suitcase, he ripped out another piece of my heart. And then he walked out, and I puked on our bathroom floor. I – I've never felt like that before, not in high school, not even when Karofsky –" He broke off.

 

Dr. Jacobson waited a few beats, then looked at Blaine. "Blaine? What did you hear Kurt say then?"

 

Blaine swallowed audibly. "I don't – I don't know if I want to repeat some of that –"

 

"Can you try?"

 

He took a deep breath, and _oh,_ the guilt Kurt felt – he shouldn't have made that comparison, not with Karofsky, not with high school –

 

Blaine closed his eyes. "He was trying to help. He admitted to lying about being sick, he said he took her crib apart. He said – he said I yelled at him, that he was _scared_ of me –" Blaine's voice wavered, and Kurt caught him looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "Did you really think I'd ever hurt you?"

 

"You did hurt me, Blaine."

 

Blaine made a pained little noise, and Kurt felt his heart break for the thousandth time since June.

 

"What else did Kurt say?" Dr. Jacobson gently prodded.

 

"That I – I ripped out his heart, I hurt him more than _Karofsky_ did, _fuck_ …"

 

Kurt glanced sideways at Blaine, who had a fist pressed to his mouth and tears in his eyes.

 

"Kurt? Do you want to clarify any of that?"

 

"You – that's not what I meant," he said softly, feeling awful. "You hurt me worse than he did because I _let_ you, not because of what you did – Blaine, I _love_ you. I hated him, then. I – it was a hundred times worse, you doing that, because of what you mean to me. I just –"

 

"No, I get it," Blaine said, his voice thick. "Because you did the same thing to me."

 

* * *

 

Blaine was staring at the wall, unable to look at Kurt. He couldn't bring himself to see the misery he'd caused written all over his husband's face. He wasn't sure what was more painful, actually – the fact that Kurt had broken his trust worse than he ever thought possible, or the fact that he'd done the same thing right back.

 

"But you say you still love each other, even after everything that's happened? Is that correct?"

 

Dr. Jacobson's voice pulled him from his thoughts. It was a simple question, and it had a simple answer, but Blaine found himself nodding to keep from bursting into tears.

 

"Yes," he barely heard Kurt whisper, his voice thick.

 

Blindly hoping, Blaine stuck his hand out in the middle of the couch, desperate for some sign that Kurt's answer really was true. He jumped when his fingers bumped against Kurt's. Fumbling, their hands found each other, and Blaine gasped back a sob as their fingers entwined. They still faced away from each other, but their grip was strong, joined by their outstretched arms across the couch. Kurt squeezed Blaine's fingers so tightly that he swore he felt it in his heart.

 

"Good," Dr. Jacobson said calmly as Blaine pressed his hand to his mouth to keep the tears in. "That's good."

 

* * *

 

Kurt strode out of the office with his arms crossed tight over his chest, leaving Blaine to trail behind him. He felt like an exposed nerve, too raw to let anyone touch him, save the moment where he and Blaine had clasped hands over the couch. In that moment, he'd needed something to tether him, but now that the appointment was over, all he wanted was some time alone.

 

"Kurt –" Blaine called after him as he hit the button for the elevator. Blaine ran to catch up as the doors opened, and Kurt sighed. It was ridiculous, if Blaine thought he was so upset that he'd let the doors shut on him.

 

"I really, really cannot talk about this anymore today," Kurt said as Blaine darted inside. "I love you, and I want to make this work, and I know there are things we need to say, but … Blaine, I _can't_ , not today."

 

"I – okay. I just – I'm so sorry, Kurt, I flew off the handle, and –"

 

"Blaine. Not today."

 

It wasn't that Kurt was trying to be cold, or mean. He hated to cut Blaine off in the middle of an apology – it was rude, and while he could be acerbic on a good day, he did have standards. But he felt physically ill, having just relived one of the very worst days of his entire life, and he wanted to go home, take one of his new nausea pills, and go to sleep. He didn't want to hear how sorry Blaine was, or think about how sorry he needed to be. He didn't want, for one more second, to think of his lost daughter or the nursery that was still halfway disassembled at home, the door closed on it indefinitely. He wanted to stop _hurting_.

 

"Okay." Blaine's voice was small as he stood in the corner of the elevator, almost cowering.

 

Kurt sighed. _Damn_ his heart, and _damn_ the ridiculous amount of love for this stupid, silly, wonderful man that flowed through every vein in his body. "Look, I –" He sighed again. "Try tomorrow. I just – tomorrow, honey. I need the rest of today, okay?"

 

Blaine nodded, tucking his chin down. "Okay." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

 

Kurt let his head fall back against the elevator wall just as it dinged, signaling that they'd reached the ground floor. "I know you are." A pause, and a decision, because this was his choice. He was _choosing_ to make this work. "I'm sorry too."


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which hope springs eternal.

**Chapter 27**

 

**Saturday, September 30 th, 2023**

**To: Kurt <3**

**So I know it's 5AM and you're probably**

**asleep, but you said to try tomorrow if I**

**want to talk, and I do, and it's tomorrow,**

**and I'm rambling…**

**To: Kurt <3**

**Just call me when you wake up. If you**

**want to, of course. If you're up for talking.**

**Or seeing me at all.**

**To: Kurt <3**

**I'm going to shut up now.**

Blaine put his head in his hands after reading over the three consecutive texts he'd sent Kurt. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ the voice in his head screamed at him. Too weary to note it in his notepad, now fuller than he'd like to admit, he sighed and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, quietly shuffling into Nick's kitchen.

 

The searing pain in his heart from the day before had lessened to a dull-but-present ache, replaced largely with overwhelming guilt over how childish he'd acted in Dr. Jacobson's office. But he wasn't sure that Kurt would feel the same – after all, Blaine's empty side of their bed was a constant reminder of the lack of trust Kurt had in his husband. And in spite of what Kurt said the day before in the elevator, Blaine questioned whether Kurt would want to meet him at all, let alone call him back at five o'clock in the morning. Which was why he jumped a good six inches off the ground when his phone began to buzz erratically on the counter just as he was about to pour a cup of coffee.

 

"Kurt?" he said, trying not to sound frantic as he answered.

 

"Hi."

 

"I can't believe you called me back – I thought you were asleep."

 

"Blaine, do you really think I slept at all last night after what happened yesterday?" Kurt asked, sounding exhausted.

 

"I –" _Oh. Probably not_.

 

"Do you want to meet me in the park in twenty minutes?"

 

Blaine was shocked. He was still reeling, actually, from the fact that Kurt had called him back, and now he wanted to meet with him – but twenty minutes …

 

Blaine had plans for grand apologetic gestures. A song would probably be inappropriate, but maybe apology breakfast, and if there wasn't time for that, maybe a bouquet of apology flowers. Kurt deserved apology flowers, at _least_ – Blaine was being such a complete moronic mess. But twenty minutes? That barely gave him time to shower and make it to the park, and – fuck it, Kurt wanted to talk with him. He'd figure something out. "Yes. Absolutely, yes."

 

"Oh. Okay. Good." Kurt paused. "I can pick up a couple coffees on the way, if you want …"

 

"Oh." Blaine looked down at his mug, now steaming and full. "That's okay; I just poured some."

 

"Oh," Kurt said, sounding a little disappointed. "Well – never mind, then."

 

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , _why didn't you just let him buy you a coffee? God, you are such an idiot_ – "I'm sorry."

 

"Blaine, it's fine. It's just coffee."

 

"Right." Blaine sighed. "I'll just – see you in the park, then?"

 

"Okay."

 

"Okay." Blaine hung up the phone, let his head roll back on his neck, and groaned at what a complete _moron_ he was.

 

* * *

 

Kurt sat on a bench in Tomkins Square Park, knees pulled up to his chin, shrouded in the shadow of a large oak tree. It was too early to be light yet, and he let himself revel for a moment in the quiet that came before dawn. A calm sort of quiet, the kind of quiet that compelled him to sit still and breathe and _be_. So Kurt sat, still as a statue, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, and _was_.

 

With each breath he exhaled, a little of the hurt from the day before went with it, and he felt the tension in his neck from the long and wearisome night slowly melt away. He was ready for this, ready to forgive and to talk and to try to take another baby step toward reconciliation.

 

He saw Blaine approach before Blaine saw him and watched as his husband scuffed the ground with the tip of his shoe, apparently a new nervous habit. Kurt worried that all his shoes would be ruined by the time he moved back in. He wondered what was going through Blaine's mind, what the morning would bring.

 

He looked up at the sky. No matter what, the morning would inevitably bring the sunrise, and Kurt found hope in that unwavering truth.

 

He took a breath. "Blaine," he called, waving, "I'm over here."

 

Kurt caught the recognition in Blaine's face – such an expressive face, his husband had; Kurt could read him like a book from yards away – and watched him jog the rest of the way down the sidewalk. Once in front of him, Blaine made a jerky little motion like he almost wanted to kneel, then changed his mind. Instead he shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled a folded-up paper towel out of it.

 

"I – here."

 

Unfolded, a bouquet of flowers appeared, obviously drawn a bit hastily – the pen was smudged in places, and the proportions weren't quite right, and they were very obviously colored in with a red Sharpie and a yellow highlighter.

 

Kurt smiled. "What's this?"

 

"Apology flowers," Blaine said, rubbing the back of his neck. "God, it seems so stupid now – I wanted to get you a real bouquet, I was gonna do red and yellow roses, but it's like five-thirty and nobody's selling them and I didn't have time … I'm sorry they're, like, neon. They look radioactive, especially the yellow ones."

 

"Blaine," Kurt said fondly, tracing the smudged flower petals with his finger. He didn't see radioactive roses drawn on a paper towel. He saw love, remorse, humility. Somehow he saw their marriage. Imperfect, smudged, but _present_ and _bold_ , just like the colors bleeding through the paper."Thank you. But you don't have anything to apologize for."

 

"Don't I?" The bench creaked beside Kurt under Blaine's added weight. "Dr. Jacobson says I apologize too much, but I feel like yesterday –" He paused. "Or – well, she hasn't ever said that out loud. But she always asks if I think I apologize too much. And what things I think merit an apology."

 

Kurt cocked his head. "What _do_ you think?"

 

"I don't know," Blaine said. "I don't know what she'd say about yesterday. I feel bad about what happened –"

 

"You feel bad about a lot of things, Blaine. So do I." He sighed, turning to face his husband. "I shouldn't have ever brought up Karofsky yesterday."

 

"That … was a little hard to hear."

 

"I know it was. I'm sorry." Kurt rubbed his eyes, sincere in his apology and frustrated with himself for ever saying it. "He didn't – it was different. It was a completely different kind of fear, and I don't ever want to make you think that I think you're like what Dave used to be. It was uncalled for, digging up old demons like that."

 

"I provoked you," Blaine said, his voice soft. "On purpose, I think. I just get so mad sometimes. I feel so _stuck_ , Kurt, I get angry and lash out at you and then I feel guilty for it. I'm so sorry. I hate seeing you hurt. I hate that I walked out on you when I told you the whole time Abby was pregnant that we'd do this together, no matter what happened."

 

"I hate that, too." Kurt said sadly. "Have you talked to Dr. Jacobson about that yet? The anger, and the guilt – you felt guilty for things you don't need to feel guilty forfor a long time before Violet ever came into the picture."

 

"Well, considering that I have a fucking _laundry list_ of things to talk about, no, I haven't quite gotten to _guilt_ yet." He leaned over and put his head in his hands, and Kurt placed a comforting hand on his back.

 

"I'm sorry, Blaine."

 

"No, _I'm_ sorry." Blaine turned his head so that he was looking at Kurt. "Why do I do that? I'm not actually mad at you – not for anything but the nursery thing, but I think we're kind of even on that front."

 

"I don't know. You're dealing with a lot."

 

"So are you, but you don't fly off the handle at anything anybody says to you …"

 

"No," Kurt said drily, "I just clean until my fingers hurt, I micromanage _everything,_ and I feel like puking every time I try to eat. As far as coping mechanisms go, mine are top-notch." Blaine cracked a smile, and Kurt smiled back. "Maybe we should try to be a little more patient with ourselves. And each other. This was just our first week in therapy together, you know."

 

"I know. I know, you're right."

 

"Mmm-hmm. I usually am, you know," Kurt teased gently. "How long till sunrise?"

 

Blaine glanced at his watch. "Half an hour, maybe?"

 

"Let's stay and watch it," Kurt said, pulling the blanket he'd brought from home out from behind his back where he was resting against the bench. "We can cover up with this."

 

"Kurt – why are you being so nice to me?" Blaine asked, looking at the blanket warily.

 

"I'm not mad at you, honey," Kurt said, and saw Blaine relax a little with his standard term of endearment. "I'm a little raw. I don't feel like I can trust you like I used to. But I can't be _mad_ , knowing why you did what you did. I know you're still mad at me, though, and …" He took a breath, shoring himself up. "And that's okay. But you have to let me know if this isn't working for you." He hesitated. "Is this not working for you?"

 

"Is what not working for me?" Blaine asked.

 

Kurt couldn't bring himself to meet Blaine's eyes, and he looked down, picking pieces of fuzz off the blanket thrown over their laps. "This. Us. Being a family again."

 

"It's not – I don't want to say it's not working for me, because I _want_ it to work," Blaine eventually said. "You have no idea how badly I want it to work. But – I feel like I'm caught in this cycle of mad-guilty-numb-weak, and I don't know how to get out of it, and I definitely don’t want to bring you into it. I – I'm scared, Kurt. I'm never even sure of exactly who I'm mad at, and I _hate_ that."

 

"Maybe a little bit of everybody," Kurt said gently, making himself look at Blaine.

 

The light in Blaine's eyes faded. "I think it's mostly me," he said forlornly.

 

Kurt found Blaine's hand under the blanket and held it, hoping he wouldn't pull away.

 

He didn't.

 

Something seemed to shift as they sat in silence, watching the leaves rustle in the trees as the morning breeze blew through the park, streaks of light just beginning to filter through the branches in the trees. The tension between them ebbed, Blaine's breathing slowed, Kurt's shoulders relaxed again. Kurt looked up at the sky, and saw that the dark blue clouds were beginning to glow with a flaming orange. He held up a finger, pointing to them. "Look, Blaine."

 

"It's pretty," Blaine said softly.

 

 _You're pretty_ , Kurt wanted to say, but didn't. He did, however, give Blaine's fingers a squeeze, and scooted a little closer.

 

"Lie down, Kurt," Blaine said, patting a hand on his lap. "Watch the sky."

 

Kurt didn't question it, this sudden reconnection he felt with his husband. He wordlessly shifted around, swinging his legs up onto the bench beside him, and lowered himself backwards until his head was cradled on Blaine's strong thighs. A shudder shook his entire body as Blaine's fingers stretched out slowly on his scalp, twisting their way through his hair.

 

They sat like that for a long time, watching as the clouds glowed brighter until there was no blue left, but instead seemed to blaze aflame, as the edge of the sun became visible over the tall buildings.

 

"I'm sorry that I hurt you," Blaine said, sincerity breaking the silence. His fingers flexed in Kurt's hair and Kurt's stomach stirred. He opened his eyes, expecting to find Blaine's gaze trained on him, but Blaine was still looking at the sky. "I wish we could go back and redo so many things…"

 

"Blaine, so do I," Kurt breathed, staring up at his husband's face, the angle of his jawline so striking from below that Kurt felt a pang of lust in his gut. He smiled to himself, knowing that strangers would call him insane to fight with a man so gorgeous that he put Greek gods to shame. Soon, though. Soon Blaine would be back home, back in their bed, and they'd be back to loving in the ways they were so good at …

 

Blaine took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling, and Kurt had to restrain his hand so as not to run it up inside of Blaine's shirt. He was just so _handsome_ in the dawning light, and … no. Kurt needed to focus. They were having a conversation. It was important. He allowed himself one gentle touch to Blaine's cheek, reaching into the air to draw Blaine's gaze back down, before he spoke again. "You know if I could go back and change everything – the nursery, the way I talked to you for so long –" He paused, remorse filling him over ever yelling at the beautiful man above him. "But not having Violet. I'd never want to redo that. Would – would you?"

 

Blaine sighed, squinting as a bright ray of sunlight found its way through the leaves. "No," he finally said. "No, I wouldn't change that, either."

 

It felt, to Kurt, like a small miracle. "Good," he said softly. "I'm glad."

 

He lay in Blaine's lap, watching as the sky brightened until they were both squinting, ducking their heads this way and that to stay in the shadows of the tree. Kurt shifted under the blanket, turning over so that he was curled toward the back of the bench and Blaine's belly. Whenever Blaine took a breath, his soft sweater brushed up against the tip of Kurt's nose, and he nuzzled in a little closer.

 

"Getting sleepy?" Blaine asked.

 

"Mmm," Kurt answered. He was a little, cocooned in the blanket against Blaine's stomach. He'd found a little cave of warmth in the middle of the cool fall morning, and it was only the breeze against his face, ruffling his hair, that kept him from dozing off into peaceful slumber, cradled against his husband.

 

"You can take a nap, if you want."

 

"No, that's okay," he said, stretching like a cat. His back arched and his calves flexed and his toes pointed and he felt Blaine grin at him as he let out a contented purr.

 

"Sometimes I forget how cute you are," Blaine murmured.

 

"Well, I'll be happy to help you remember," Kurt said, stretching his arms up above his head for just a beat longer than necessary. He paused. "Blaine, do you happen to remember what Dr. Jacobson said at the end of our appointment?"

 

Blaine cocked his head. "Kurt, are you asking me out on a date?"

 

He wasn't expecting for Blaine to be quite so direct, and it caught him a little off-guard. He blushed, stammering, "I – um – well, I just didn't know if you caught all of what she said at the end; you were so upset when we left –"

 

"I wasn't any more upset than you were. And I definitely heard what she wanted us to do for our homework assignment."

 

Kurt blinked at him.

 

"So are you asking me out, or not?"

 

"If I were, would you say yes?" Kurt asked, a little smile crossing over his lips.

 

Blaine's eyes flickered, showing him a glimpse of the boy Kurt fell in love with all those years ago. "I think you should try and find out."

 

Kurt reached up, cupped Blaine's cheek. "Go for coffee with me?"

"Just coffee? I might need a little more wooing than that …" Blaine smiled coyly, and Kurt felt an overwhelming urge to kiss him.

 

"Really, now," he breathed, bringing his hand up to the back of Blaine's neck, and _oh_ , he'd missed that smile, the one that made Blaine's eyes crinkle at the corners. "I thought coffee was our _thing_. You certainly wooed the hell out of me with it."

 

Kurt sat up, bracing his free arm a little uncomfortably against the rail on the arm of the bench, and slid forward, their faces so close that he could feel Blaine's breath on his lips.

 

"Well," Blaine whispered, "I guess it's worth a shot…" Kurt closed the gap between them, his lips slipping against Blaine's in perfect synchrony. Blaine gasped against him and drew him in tight, one arm slung around Kurt's back, the other coming up to thread once again in his hair. Kurt could feel in his veins the love that Blaine poured into the kiss, and though it wasn't particularly heated – neither of their mouths ever opened for the entrance of a tongue – it was intimate in a way that their most recent kiss hadn't come close to.

 

Blaine broke away first, sighing with his forehead pressed against Kurt's. "Oh my god, I miss you," he said, his eyes shining with tears.

 

"I miss you too, honey," Kurt said thickly, pressing another hard kiss to his temple as he sat up the rest of the way, half in Blaine's lap, clinging to him with his arms around his shoulders.

 

"Don't let go yet," Blaine murmured. "Kiss me again."

 

And Kurt took Blaine's face in his hands as the sun fully emerged from behind the buildings, rising higher and higher in the clear morning sky.

 

* * *

 

"So, breakfast and coffee? At Bean Me Up?"

 

Blaine nodded, blushing as Kurt asked him. He felt silly, blushing at such a simple question, but they'd just finished kissing and he could still feel it in his toes.

 

Kurt took his hand and grinned. "Hi. I missed you."

 

"Hi," he said, still flushed. "Braxton and Wendy are gonna shit themselves when we walk in together, you know."

 

"Braxton and Wendy can think whatever they want to. We'll sit outside," Kurt said decisively, tugging on his hand.

 

As they walked down the sidewalk, Blaine gestured to his worn jeans and plain v-neck sweater. "If I'd known that we were going on a date, I would've dressed better."

 

"You look perfect," Kurt said. "And we're both casual, so it's fine."

 

 _Casual my ass_. Casual on Kurt was still sex personified. Blaine looked at Kurt's pale shoulder, on display where his wide-necked sweater had slipped down his arm. His skin was lightly dusted with peachy-tan freckles, a side effect of the blistering sunburn he'd gotten on their beach vacation three years prior – Blaine had almost forgotten. He sighed, remembering all the kisses he'd planted on those freckles. "Yeah, well, you could wear Crocs and acid-wash and still look amazing, so …"

 

"Don't ever use the word 'Crocs' when referring to me ever again, please," Kurt said drily. "Seriously, you're fine. It's just coffee, Blaine."

 

"It was never _just coffee_ , Kurt."

 

Kurt stopped, turned around. "No," he said slowly. "No, you're right – it wasn't."

 

* * *

 

**From: Jeff**

**Hey, my flight arrived like 15**

**minutes early! Are you here yet?**

Nick picked up his pace, darting into the Arrivals wing of JFK.

 

**To: Jeff**

**Just got here – on my way to baggage**

**claim.**

He jumped a mile when a pair of arms closed around his chest, and a warm voice murmured in his ear, "Beat you to it."

 

"Oh my god," he gasped, his heart racing like a rabbit's, "you scared me, you asshole!" He turned around in Jeff's arms, laughing as his breath came in short bursts.

 

"Sorry," Jeff said, a devious tone to his voice.

 

"No you're not!"

 

Jeff grinned. "No. I'm not."

 

Nick squeezed him hard around his waist, pecking him on the cheek. "So you have all your stuff? Ready to go?"

 

"Ready," Jeff said, giving him a grin that could've lit the city for a week.

 

"Good, because Blaine's out with Kurt. He left me a note."

 

"Ohhh," Jeff sighed in his ear, "that is _excellent_ news. For them _and_ for us."

 

Nick blushed. "I think I like the sound of where this is going."

 

"You should know _exactly_ where this is going," Jeff murmured. "I told you I was planning to pick right back up where we left off on Skype last night …"

 

Nick bit off the groan that rose in his throat. "Home," he croaked. "Let's go home."

 

* * *

 

The familiar scents and sounds that hit Blaine's senses nearly bowled him over as he walked hand-in-hand with Kurt into the coffee shop. Wendy was grinding beans behind the counter with her back turned to them, singing along with the music softly playing in the background.

 

" _So who's to worry if our hearts get torn, when that hurt gets thrown, don't you know this life goes on … And won't you kiss me on that midnight street, sweep me off my feet, singing ain't this life so sweet …_ "

 

"I didn't know you liked David Gray," Blaine said, his heart thudding as he listened to the lyrics.

 

She whipped around, and her face lit up when she saw him. " _Blaine!_ " she squealed, running around the counter to throw her arms around his neck. "Oh my _god_ , it's been ages – and Kurt, how are you guys? Oh I'm _so_ glad you came in today – where's Romeo?"

 

"At home," Kurt answered with a smile, returning the hug that she offered him. "It's good to see you, too."

 

"I was beginning to worry that you'd found another coffee shop!"

 

"Nope," Blaine said simply. "It's just – it's been a long year, and I haven't been able to write much –"

 

"Oh, honey, it's _fine_ , I'm just glad you're back!" Wendy exclaimed. "Your coffees are on the house today. What do you want?"

 

Once they were settled at a table outside, Wendy sneaking glances out the window at them at regular intervals, Blaine felt himself relax. He was on a date. With Kurt. For coffee. It felt almost as familiar to him as breathing.

 

"So," he said, taking a sip of his medium drip.

 

"So," Kurt replied, "do you want to hear how Rachel almost burned down our kitchen the other day?"

 

" _Again_?" Blaine asked, incredulous, and apparently that was icebreaker enough – they were laughing together like they'd always done, their ankles crossed over each other's as if nothing had ever changed.

 

They sat at their little table as they drank their coffee, swapping stories of two separate lives. Kurt entertained Blaine with accounts of Rachel's sometimes overzealous cooking endeavors – "I swear, that girl will _never_ learn how to flambé anything" – and Blaine whined to Kurt about how Alex was hounding him to churn _something_ out – "'I don't care if it's shit, Blaine,' he tells me, 'I just need _something_.'" Wendy came out and brought them new drinks, and a tendril of jealousy unfurled in Blaine's stomach as they began to talk of Nick's and Jeff's budding romance.

 

"It's adorable and totally sickening at the same time," Blaine sighed. "God, our friends must've hated us in high school."

 

"Mercedes had a hard time with it, I know," Kurt mused, petting his hand over the back of Blaine's, and he couldn't help the feeling of déjà vu that washed over him – they could have just as easily been back in the Lima Bean twelve years prior. "But I can't say that I was ever particularly sorry."

 

"No," Blaine agreed. "I wasn't either. I – I miss it, actually."

 

Kurt beamed, and Blaine felt a flame of … _something,_ he wasn't sure what, flicker inside of him. Hope, maybe? Love? …Was he getting a _crush_ on his husband?

 

"It is sweet though – Nick and Jeff, I mean," Kurt said. "They're so _new_ , if that makes sense. And whenever I see Jeff, he's just walking around in awe – you know he's been in love with Nick since he was fifteen, right?"

 

"I can't believe I never knew," Blaine said, shaking his head.

 

" _Nobody_ knew. I can't imagine how awful that would have been. I was _so_ obvious when I fell for you, but at least people knew, and I could talk about it. Jeff didn't have anybody."

 

"Until he had you." Blaine nudged Kurt's foot with his. "I'm glad you were able to be there for him. You're always so good at that …"

 

Kurt blushed. "Stop. If you're saying that I'm the reason they're together, you're completely off-base –"

 

"No, not the reason – that was all them. But you did give Jeff the courage to try, right?"

 

"And here all this time I thought _you_ were the one who encouraged people to be brave," Kurt grinned.

 

"I might encourage, but you inspire, Kurt. You're always so brave yourself …"

 

"Not always." He reached across the table to squeeze Blaine's hand. "I'm not very brave when it comes to losing you."

 

 _Oh_ the things one sentence from Kurt's mouth could still do to Blaine's heart, _oh oh oh_. He brought Kurt's hand up to his lips, kissing his knuckles. "You won't, Kurt. I'll never make you worry about that again …"

 

"Is that a promise?"

 

"I _swear_ it," Blaine said, nodding solemnly. "Never again."

 

Kurt sat back as he contemplated Blaine's words. "Okay," he said slowly. "Okay."

 

"Kurt? Do you believe me?"

 

"I think I'm starting to."

 

* * *

 

"I know I've said this before, but _god_ I feel sixteen when I'm with you," Jeff murmured, mouthing at Nick's neck playfully as he unlocked his apartment.

 

"Just don't start singing Katy Perry to me," Nick grinned. "Blaine would be totally appalled if you stole his thunder, even after all these years."

 

They stumbled through the door and Nick dragged Jeff to the couch, stealing kisses the whole way. Jeff was more than happy to be carted along, holding onto Nick's hand like it was the surest thing he knew. He thought that maybe it was.

 

"So, are you still wanting to pick things up where we left off?" Nick said, perching on the edge of the couch, his cheeks flushing rosy pink. "Because if I remember right, you were begging me to … um …"

 

Jeff tilted his head, trying to remember the nature of his babbling the night before. "You're gonna have to help me out a little."

 

"Do you remember what you said right before you came?"

 

"Umm …" Jeff narrowed his eyes, thinking back – he'd been jerking off, he vaguely remembered a little too much lube – " _Oh_ ," he gasped. "I – Nick I said I wanted your mouth – is that –"

 

"I – I think I'd really like to try." Nick dropped onto his knees in front of Jeff, his eyes nervous.

 

Jeff's heart stuttered in his chest. "You don't have to," he said, watching a real-life version of one of his teenage fantasies play out before him. Sixteen-year-old Jeff would've probably come in his pants the moment Nick's knees touched the floor. "I – if this is going to make you uncomfortable –"

 

"No. No, it's not, I just – I want _everything_ with you, Jeff. But I also want to make sure I'm doing it right." He paused. "I've been practicing, but I don't know how good I am yet …"

 

"You've been _practicing_?" Jeff squeaked, both delighted and surprised. "On _what_?"

 

"Um, cucumbers?"

 

It was like watching roses bloom on Nick's cheeks and neck and chest as he blushed, and Jeff desperately wanted to kiss him. Strangely, the thought of Nick attempting to half-swallow a cucumber whole was one of the most romantic things anyone had ever done for him. "Cucumbers, huh?" he said impishly, stroking his fingers down Nick's cheek. "You'll have to tell me how I compare."

 

"Well, I hope you're less bumpy, for starters."

 

Jeff snorted – he couldn't help it, it just flew out of his mouth, and he leaned forward in a fit of giggles, his head falling on Nick's shoulder.

 

"I'm pretty sure we'd both be in for a world of hurt if my dick was as bumpy as a cucumber," he said, wrapping his arms around Nick's neck. Jeff kissed him, then, because he needed his lips on Nick's skin like it was a necessity – he'd stop breathing, the world would cease to turn on its axis if they weren't. "I'm so glad you're my best friend," he whispered.

 

"And I'm so glad you're mine," Nick murmured back. "It makes all this – this new stuff – so much easier." He rose up on his knees and held Jeff's face, and Jeff knew he could get lost in this, could get lost in Nick himself and never come out again. As good as their Skype sex was, and as gorgeous as Nick was when he was overcome with orgasm, and as much as Jeff loved watching him – nothing could beat proximity. Jeff wanted to drown in touches, to memorize Nick's skin over and over now that he had the chance. He traced fingers down Nick's forearms, rubbing wiry hairs the wrong way so that they stood on end, threaded his hands in dark, shaggy locks, clutched at Nick's back, feeling muscles ripple under cotton and skin.

 

And soon, he felt Nick's hands travel south to his belt buckle.

 

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Jeff asked gently, cupping Nick's cheek in his hand. "I don't want to push …"

 

"Believe me," Nick said, his voice gravelly. "You aren't pushing." He grabbed Jeff's hand and thrust it between his legs and – oh. _Oh_. Maybe he wasn't pushing, after all.

 

Nick moved back to Jeff's pants, unbuttoning them and slipping the zipper down with ease, and –

 

" _Fuck_ ," Nick whispered reverently, drawing the tip of his finger down the length of Jeff's bare cock. "Is it my birthday or something? Because that's a nice surprise…"

 

Jeff chuckled, his breath coming in spurts and sputters under the light, tickling pressure of Nick's finger. "I almost forgot, actually – sorry –"

 

"Of all the things you might ever need to apologize for," Nick said, bending to press a kiss to the tip of Jeff's cock, which incited a low, rumbly moan from his chest, "going commando is _not_ one of them."

 

"N-noted," Jeff managed to stammer as Nick pulled his pants low on his thighs. Ever so slowly, and how it felt like _love_ Jeff just couldn't comprehend, Nick's lips wrapped around him and Nick's tongue flicked lightly into his slit. "Oh god …" Jeff whimpered, unable to stop himself from curling his fingers in Nick's hair. He was so hard, throbbing already, and Nick hadn't even gotten started yet. _Don’t come, don't come, don't come_ , Jeff chanted silently, plastering his ass deep into the couch so his hips would stay still.

 

And then Nick's mouth started its slow descent over the shaft of his cock, and reduced Jeff to half-uttered phrases and little grunts. "Nick, do you have any idea – god, so much better than I ever – I used to masturbate to this –" he babbled, his head rolling to one side on his neck.

 

Nick growled around a mouth full of dick and Jeff's breath stuttered out of him. He felt the vibrations in Nick's throat spread through him until _he_ was vibrating with it; he could almost hear his _bones_ rattling. He was losing it, his whole body on the edge of a mind-blowing orgasm. He wasn't ready for it; he didn't want this prickling pleasure to end, and if Nick made one more move with his tongue or his mouth –

 

He pushed his boyfriend backwards with a frantic, "Hang on, hang on, give me a second –" and Nick slid off with a loud _pop_ , worry etched on his face.

 

"Did I do something wrong?" Nick asked, a little short of breath. Jeff probably could have come just _looking_ at him, his lips red and wet, his pupils blown. "God, did I hurt you? My teeth or something? Or – here, I'll just use my hand, let me get some lube –"

 

Jeff grabbed him by the shoulders before he could stand. "You're not going anywhere," he said seriously. "Jesus, your _tongue_ –"

 

"So – it wasn't bad? I didn't hurt you?"

 

"No," Jeff moaned. "I – I was about to come, and I wasn't ready – I want it to last –" He sighed, looking down at his swollen cock, aching and dripping with precome and saliva. "I don't think it's going to last."

 

Nick smiled sweetly, a little shyly. It was blowing Jeff's mind – when had a blowjob ever been _sweet_? "Well – I hope I can make it good for you while it does."

 

"Nick," Jeff said, his voice quavering weirdly, "You make _everything_ good for me."

 

Nick smiled again, dragged his fingertips down Jeff's hips, making him shiver. He watched in awe as Nick's beautiful red lips sunk back over him again, taking Jeff as deep as he could, wrapping his hand around the rest. He breathed through his nose and swallowed, the tight suction around Jeff's cock making him moan loudly.

 

"You are the most beautiful man –" Jeff whispered around the shuddering breaths filling and emptying his lungs. "God, Nick – yes, god, like that –"

 

Nick bobbed his head up and down slowly, and if he thought about it, maybe it wasn't the best technique Jeff had ever encountered. But it certainly wasn't the _worst_ , and more importantly, it was _Nick_ and he was sucking on Jeff's _cock_ , and holy shit –

 

"Is this okay?" Nick asked, pulling off again.

 

"Yes, yes, yes," Jeff panted, "just don’t stop, please don't stop, oh my god –"

 

Nick, eager to please, sank back over Jeff's cock like he'd never left it, taking him even deeper this time, his hands sliding underneath Jeff's hips to grip his ass.

 

"Oh, god," Jeff sighed, "Oh god, oh fuck –" He felt sparks lighting in him, mainly in his cock, slipping in and out of Nick's perfect mouth, but also in his legs and arms and fingers and face. "Nick," he gasped, his impending orgasm nearly _burning_ him, "Nick, Nick _,_ shit –"

 

He fisted a hand in Nick's hair and grabbed the arm of the couch with the other as he tried not to drive his hips forward, spilling hot into Nick's mouth. Jeff groaned as Nick closed his eyes and swallowed, a bit of come slipping out and running down the corners of his mouth.

 

When Jeff's cock had finally stopped pulsing and he pulled out of Nick's glorious mouth, Nick was still swallowing, his eyes wide and full of lust.

 

"Oh my god," he said, coughing a little. "Jeff –"

 

Jeff collapsed face-down on the couch, panting, but Nick pulled him up for a messy, wet kiss. Jeff could taste his come in Nick's mouth, and damn if that wasn't an unexpected turn-on – it had never done anything for him before. He tipped his head to the side and licked over the planes and ridges of Nick's mouth, tasting, and Nick went limp, letting him.

 

With the last burst of energy he had left, Jeff tugged him toward the couch and up into his lap and – oh. Nick hadn't gone limp all over, apparently …

 

He was whimpering, actually, jerking forward against Jeff's thigh once he got settled, and Jeff made himself pull back from Nick's come-coated mouth long enough to look him in the eye. "Hey. What do you need, baby?"

 

Nick's face was desperate as he spoke. "Anything, your fingers, I –"

 

" _Shhh_ ," Jeff soothed, cupping Nick's face in his palm. "What do you want? You want my fingers – inside of you?"

 

"God, _please_ ," Nick moaned.

 

"Okay," Jeff murmured. "Let's go to your room." He leaned heavily on Nick as they walked down the hall, in part because he was still half-drunk and shaky from orgasm, but mostly just because he could, and because Nick was solid and warm and Jeff needed to be near him.

 

Nick practically vaulted onto the bed once they passed through the doorway, and Jeff managed to hoist himself up after him, crawling on all fours toward the headboard where Nick sat.

 

"I can't believe it, still, sometimes," Jeff whispered, tucking himself under Nick's arm, trying to slow his breathing.

 

"Well, you should try." Nick took Jeff's hand, brought it to his cock. "Because this is real, Jeff."

 

"I – I –" _I love you._ "You're perfect." Jeff's voice was reverent when he said it, his fingers ghosting over Nick's cock, over his balls, back and back until Nick gasped loudly.

 

"Oh, there, oh – god, this – why –"

 

Jeff's finger lightly circled Nick's hole as he leaned in and whispered, "Let me take care of you."

 

Nick nodded frantically, and Jeff found a bottle of lube and slicked his fingers, trying to hurry with Nick's erratic breathing loud in his ears. He scooted toward the end of the bed, kneeling in between Nick's knees, and soon he had a finger pressing inside. He smiled as Nick's muscles clenched around him, Nick's toes flexing rhythmically in the air.

 

"Oh god, Jeff," Nick gasped as he slid himself up and down on Jeff's finger. "God, why do I love this so much?"

 

"Because it's awesome," Jeff smiled, slowly fucking into him. If Nick was falling apart this much with just one finger, Jeff couldn't wait to see what the rest of the morning would bring…

 

"I try to do this to mys- _hahhhh –_ myself," Nick gasped, twisting the fitted sheet he was lying on in his fingers. "But it's nothing – it's uncomfortable, and the angle's wron _nnnnnnng_ – oh god – but you –"

 

"But I?"

 

"You make it incredible," Nick moaned, tilting his hips up. "Can you – more?"

 

"You want another finger?" Jeff clarified.

 

" _Yes_."

 

"Okay, but I'll go slow," Jeff said gently, slipping his index and middle fingers in beside each other, stilling to let Nick's muscles stretch against the intrusion.

 

"Oh, wow," Nick said, shifting his hips just slightly. "Oh, wow, that's – god, it's kind of tight –"

 

"You okay?"

 

"Mmm, I – it doesn't hurt, really, it – just –" he broke off, shifting his hips more so that Jeff's fingers were deeper. " _Damn_ ," Nick said, "it's – I've just never tried two –"

 

Nick's muscles were pulsing against the wider stretch, and Jeff gently picked Nick's left leg up off the bed, mouthing over the inside of his thigh until Nick was moaning, the ring of muscles relaxed.

 

"Can you move?" he begged, his head thrown back. "Can you – that _place_ –" He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and looked at Jeff. "My prostate. I want you to – I need –"

 

Jeff wondered if this was what it felt like for your brain to melt out your ears. "Of course I can," he said, pressing in and searching until – there. He let his fingers graze over the little bump, making Nick shiver beneath him.

 

"There-there-there," Nick moaned as Jeff slid his fingers gently in and out, slipping over Nick's prostate with each motion. "Oh, god, two is better, _fuck_ –"

 

"How does it feel?" Jeff was surprised to hear his voice come out deeper than normal.

 

" _Fuck_ – feels incredible – _ohhhh_ , don't stop –"

 

Jeff worked him open, slow and deliberate, rubbing steadily against his prostate. Nick writhed and moaned as Jeff kissed up his legs, over his stomach, stretching to swirl his tongue around Nick's nipples, sucking purple spots into his smooth, tanned skin. He paused, holding himself up over Nick's heaving chest with one elbow, and let himself stare, still twisting his fingers inside Nick. It felt like a dream, being there, being _inside_ him. Never had he let himself hope for this, never in a hundred million years did he think he'd ever actually _get_ it … If he'd had a free hand, he might've pinched himself to make sure he _wasn't_ dreaming – he couldn't count how many times he'd gotten off to this, but Nick was even more velvety against his fingers than he'd imagined, and _god,_ his voice …

 

"Jeff?" Nick's voice was soft, and Jeff's name sounded so, so beautiful on his lips. Jeff hadn't ever really loved his name much before now, but now it was lovely; now it held reverence on Nick's tongue.

 

"Hmm?"

 

"I'm not losing you, am I?"

 

Jeff smiled. "No way," he said, kissing Nick sweetly on his lips, still red from the earlier blowjob. "I was just thinking."

 

"About me?"

 

"About you."

 

Nick smiled back at him. "This is incredible," he sighed. "I didn't know – I had no idea it could feel like _this_ …"

 

"Tell me?" Jeff murmured, kissing down Nick's chest again.

 

"Like … like you're unfolding me from the inside out," Nick said. "Like you're shaking me apart … oh _Jeff_ …"

 

Jeff stretched up to Nick's face and kissed him deeply, working his tongue against Nick's. He was being swallowed whole, little by little, his tongue in Nick's mouth and his fingers in Nick's ass and _god_ , just imagine what it would feel like to replace his dick with those fingers …

 

His cock twitched, suddenly interested again, and as he moved to suck on Nick's neck, he felt himself growing hard. As Nick continued to sigh and moan and as Jeff's fingers kept slipping in and out of Nick's ass, perfect and silky-smooth, Jeff glanced down, surprised to see himself lengthened to his full potential. He couldn't help but think that it was a pretty impressive recovery time for a man of twenty-nine years.

 

"Can I have another finger now?" Nick gasped, bringing him back to earth.

 

"Sure, baby," Jeff said, planting another kiss on his mouth. "But it'll be a bigger stretch – breathe through it with me, okay?" He carefully added a third finger, and Nick fell apart underneath him.

 

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Nick panted, arching his back, and Jeff stilled immediately.

 

"Are you okay? Does it hurt, or is it just uncomfortable? Talk to me –"

 

"It – _fuck_ – so _full,_ " Nick moaned.

 

"It doesn't hurt?"

 

Nick shook his head. "No, not hurt, just … move, I think?"

 

Jeff very, very gently inched his fingers forward, then backward, then forward again toward the little nub that made Nick cry out with pleasure. He rubbed over it with his middle finger.

 

"Like that?"

 

Nick was shaking. "Holy shit, holy _shit_ ," he chanted, canting his hips so Jeff's fingers were fucking him. "Oh god, this is – oh _god_ –"

 

"Oh my god," Jeff said, laughing softly to himself as he moved his fingers to and fro. "You really love this, don't you?"

 

* * *

 

Blaine bounced up the stairs to Nick's apartment like a child, his heart so full after his date with Kurt that he could barely stand it. They'd kissed when they left Bean Me Up, then kissed again a block down the sidewalk, and again when they had to part ways, and Blaine wanted to kiss Kurt for the rest of forever.

 

But Blaine stopped in his tracks halfway down the hall, because not fifteen feet away was Nick's half-open bedroom door, where he could see naked legs and a naked back.

 

" _Don't touch yourself_ ," he heard Jeff growl. _"I want to make you come with just my fingers._ "

 

"Holy shit," Blaine breathed, ducking into the tiny hallway bathroom. Peeking out, he discovered that his hiding place offered a perfect view of the bottom half of the bed, the top half obscured by the half-closed door. He felt guilty, but was unable to tear his eyes away, instantly aroused, his body tingling awake from a very long sleep. He felt parched. It had been a long time, and friends or no, watching them was like seeing a mirage in a desert. The water was there, right in front of him, but he couldn't drink it. His mouth went dry and, subconsciously, he pressed the heel of his hand against his cock where he was growing hard inside his jeans.

 

" _Jeff – god – there, there, ohhhh –"_

 

Honestly, he thought as he palmed himself, it was like watching a porno – a _good_ porno, he was a little surprised to realize, with nice sounds and nicer bodies – in his own house. Or Nick's, rather. Oh, god, it _was_ Nick's house, and it was Nick's body and Jeff's body, which meant that he was definitely intruding, and he should _definitely leave._ Right now.

 

Except, he didn't. He stood there, unable to move, watching wide-eyed as Jeff's fingers dragged in and out of Nick's ass. His cock grew harder as their cries filled his ears, and all he could picture was Kurt, spread out naked and open beneath him, or Kurt, on top of him on all fours, or Kurt, pushing him against the shower wall.

 

Finally he was brought out of his fantasy world when Nick let out a long, low, guttural groan and came, thick streaks of white come spurting from his cock. Blaine let out the breath he'd been holding and darted quietly toward the door, hearing Jeff gasp out an orgasm as he went. But just as Blaine was about to slip outside, he stopped again, hearing them murmuring to each other in lazy voices.

 

" _Thank you. Thank you, god, I feel so –"_

_"You're so beautiful; I love you so much – waiting for you was worth every second."_

_"I can't believe – it really shouldn't feel that good, you know?_ "

 

His heart throbbed harder than his dick had at their words, and Blaine carefully exited the apartment, shutting the door silently behind him as he heard them laugh behind the door. His breath came hard and heavy as he stood with his back to the door, the handle grasped in one hand as he glanced down at the bulge in his jeans.

 

That had just happened. That was not a hallucination. Nick and Jeff were – well, not fucking, but almost, and he'd seen it – he'd _watched_ it – and it had turned him on. A lot. But even more than that, it had made him miss Kurt, _want_ Kurt, with an intensity he hadn't felt in months.

 

He knew he should feel guilty. He'd just watched two of his best friends in a _very_ private moment, and it had been entirely wrong of him to stay. But the aching loneliness he suddenly felt was stronger than the guilt, even stronger than the feeling of his cock, hard in his jeans. He wanted – he didn't know what he wanted, really. Part of him, the part with the testosterone and the erection and the sex drive wanted to run all the way to his house, reclaim his territory, beg Kurt to fuck him. Or vice versa.

 

But the rational part of him knew that was a bad idea, knew he should cool off and do – what, he wasn't sure. And then, all of a sudden, he was.

 

He took a deep breath and turned around, his cock already beginning to soften. With several loud knocks on the door, he opened it a crack.

 

"Nick?" he called into the apartment. "I'm back – I just need to grab a few things – is Jeff here yet?"

 

He heard giddy giggling from down the hall, then Nick's voice call out. "Yeah, yeah, hang on a second –"

 

Blaine stepped into the apartment, staying firmly put in the little entryway, until Nick emerged from his bedroom, a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips, his hair wild.

 

"Hey," Blaine said, trying to sound casual.

 

"Hey," Nick grinned. "You, uh, you said you're leaving again?"

 

Blaine couldn't help but grin back at him. "I can be gone all day if you want me to."

 

"I, um –" Nick looked down at the floor and started laughing, running a hand through his messy hair. "Shit, I guess it's sort of obvious, huh?"

 

"A little, yeah. You kind of have that look …" Blaine willed himself not to blush.

 

"Man, I never knew – I didn't know it could be like this."

 

"You love him?"

 

Nick laughed again. "I – yeah. Like – yeah. Wow. Yes. I love him." His voice, his eyes, were filled with wild, uninhibited joy, joy that Blaine hadn't felt in a very long time.

 

"Then keep him," Blaine said, forcing his voice to stay steady as he squeezed Nick's bare upper arm. "Don't fuck up like I did."

 

"Blaine –"

 

"No, no," he said, holding up a hand. "Don't feel bad. I'm fine. I – I'm great, actually. Kurt and I went on a date this morning, and it was – I'm just gonna – I'm gonna try to write some, actually. I was just coming to get this." He grabbed his laptop from the coffee table, held it up.

 

Nick's eyes softened. "Good," he said, gentle pride evident in his voice. "Good, I'm glad. I hope it goes well."

 

"Yeah. Me too." Blaine hugged the laptop to his chest. "Well – enjoy your afternoon."

 

"Oh, I plan to," Nick said, winking at him. "We'll talk later, yeah?"

 

Blaine grinned again. "Yeah. I'm happy for you, Nick," he said, patting Nick on the shoulder. "I really, really am."

 

His heart still felt a little funny as he turned to leave, torn between being overjoyed for his friend, who'd finally found what was in front of him all along, and being sad for himself, because what he wanted _was_ in front of him. He just wasn't exactly sure how to get it back.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which miracles come in all shapes and sizes, in the form of a pill, a Word document, a sketchbook, a quiet dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, lokicorey, who made my cover art, also made me a movie trailer!!!! SO. FREAKING. EXCITED. Go watch!!
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=rdCs5HE87DI

**Chapter 28**

 

**Monday, October 2 nd, 2023**

"Alex? Hey, it's Blaine. Will you call me back when you get a chance? I have some ideas and a sort of rough outline-ish thing for a new piece. I think it'll be a series of short stories, but I'm not sure it's what you or the publishers are looking for. Maybe we can meet over lunch and talk about it? I hate that I missed you – I know I've been a lousy friend lately, and an even lousier author, but hopefully I've hit a turning point. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

 

Blaine sighed and set the phone down, scrubbing a hand through his messy curls. All he could do now was wait.

 

* * *

 

"So, Kurt, how're you feeling?"  
  
Kurt was feeling like he needed to stop staring at Dr. Jacobson's slouchy UGG boots pulled up over a pair of not-so-skinny jeans, for one thing. It was his third time seeing the woman, and her wardrobe was getting consistently _worse_. He snapped himself back to attention, trying to focus on her face, which was kind and open and smiling at him. _Don’t be a bitch, Kurt._  
  
He tipped his head to one side. "How am I feeling about what?"  
  
"Oh, just in general. Or specifically, if you have something in particular you'd like to talk about today."  
  
Kurt blinked at her. "Has anyone ever told you that you're very vague?"  
  
"I'm only vague so that you can't be," she said. "We tend to get more accomplished that way."  
  
Well, at least the woman was honest. He looked at her again, her wardrobe screaming 'I'm Trying too Hard in All the Wrong Ways!' and felt a sudden fondness for her that hadn't been there before. "You know, I think I like you," he said thoughtfully.  
  
"I'm glad to hear that, Kurt." The smile she gave him was genuine, and Kurt felt warm inside, like maybe she'd needed a pick-me-up that day.  
  
"I bet it drives Blaine crazy, though. The vague thing? I bet you make him squirm a lot."  
  
Dr. Jacobson raised an eyebrow. "Kurt, you know I can't discuss any information about other clients' sessions, even if that client happens to be your husband."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to dig," he apologized. "I was just … commenting."  
  
"Commenting, huh? You don't think you were deflecting?"  
  
"I – maybe?"

 

"Well, no matter, either way," Dr. Jacobson said with a kind smile. "But I really would like to talk about you for a while."

 

Right. Talk about him. That was what he was there for, after all. He took a deep breath. "Well – I should be feeling really good. That Zofran stuff is like a miracle drug," he said. "I'm eating real food for the first time in months. I went out for lunch with my friend Rachel yesterday, and we had _sushi_ of all things. I cannot even tell you how much I missed the taste of avocado and rice vinegar …"

 

"That's wonderful, Kurt! But – you said you _should_ be feeling good. Why aren't you? "

 

Kurt looked down at the couch, fingering the raised seam on the cushion he was sitting on. The answer was very simple and very complicated, knotted up in his mind and heart like a tangled necklace, the kind you'd need a toothpick or some tweezers to fix.

 

"Blaine," he sighed, still in awe of how one name could hold so _much_. "I just – he's all over the place. You saw him Friday at our appointment – he was so mad, but then he'll apologize like crazy for being mad, which kind of drives _me_ crazy."

 

Dr. Jacobson nodded.

 

"But then we went out on Saturday and he _drew me_ apology flowers, because it was too early to buy them. After that, it was like nothing ever happened between us – it was _wonderful._ It felt like we were dating again. So I called him yesterday, hoping to – I don't know, flirt with him or something, and he was right back to where he's been."

 

"And where's that?"

 

"I don't know, exactly," Kurt said slowly, recalling Blaine's dejected tone of voice, his one-word answers. "Someplace bad. He – he didn't really want to talk, and he sounded so _sad._ I just don't know how I can learn trust him when I feel like I'm on a roller coaster whenever I'm around him."

 

"Did you ask him why he sounded that way?"

 

"Well of course I did, but do you think he'd actually tell me? Blaine's kind of a bottler, if you haven't noticed …"

 

Dr. Jacobson didn't comment on that. "Why do _you_ think he was sad? Do you think something could have triggered him – do you know what I mean when I say trigger?"

 

Kurt huffed. Of course he knew what a trigger was. The entirety of his time at Dalton he dreaded gym class, because the combined smell of apocrine sweat and Axe body wash could set him off. He'd have to sit down on the bleachers, Blaine hovering over him worriedly as he trembled, trying to breathe through the panic.

 

"Yes," he said, trying not to sound irritable. "He – maybe he was thinking about Violet. Or leaving me. Or Nick and Jeff. Or all of the above …"

 

"Nick and Jeff?" Dr. Jacobson asked.

 

"They're our good friends, and they just realized that they're totally in love with each other and –" he sighed. "Well, it's a little difficult right now, watching them be so happy when we're having such a hard time."

 

"I see. So do you think it's the roller coaster emotions? Or do you think you're not _ready_ to let yourself trust Blaine again?"

 

But Kurt _was_ ready. He was so ready for Blaine to be back in his home, in his bed, in his heart, that it permeated his every thought, but for some reason he couldn't make the leap.

 

"I – I don't know. Maybe I'm scared of getting hurt again."

 

"I think that's understandable, Kurt."

 

He shook his head. It _wasn't_ understandable, not to him. He shouldn't be afraid of being hurt by the man he'd loved for over twelve years. "But I _want_ to trust him again. I _miss_ him. I just – I want to feel married again, if that makes sense."

 

"Do you not feel married now?"

 

Kurt laughed drily. "Not even a little bit."

 

"Well, what does being married feel like to you?"

 

He closed his eyes to keep from crying. What did being married feel like? It felt like holding hands in Central Park in December, Blaine's tongue stuck out to catch the snowflakes, looking no less than _precious_ in his hat and gloves and coat. It felt like strong arms he felt safe in, whether his dad was in the hospital or he'd just gotten a promotion or he may or may not have just broken his big toe when he dropped a bottle of wine on it. It felt like a cup of coffee brought at two in the morning all the way to his studio before Fashion Week, Blaine wearing pajamas and a sleepy smile. It felt like walking down an aisle and making promises and dancing the night away.

 

"It feels like everything but this," he whispered.

 

Dr. Jacobson handed him a Kleenex. "You said you went out with him on Saturday – that went well?"

 

Kurt nodded, dabbing at his eyes. "I felt like I had my best friend back," he said softly. "Like somehow the Blaine I've always known – the one I haven't seen in a long time – managed to crawl his way back to the surface or something. He was so _sweet_. I know you don't know him very well, and I don't think you've probably gotten to see _my_ Blaine yet, but that's who he is. He's so sweet and so thoughtful – he'll go out of his way to make somebody's day better. He's the kind of guy who will draw you a bouquet of apology flowers. He volunteered at a soup kitchen the entire time we were in college. That's the guy I married, and that's the guy I had coffee with two days ago."

 

She made a note on the legal pad she always held in her lap and smiled sadly at him. "Kurt – you do understand that he's the same person he always was, right? No one came and switched out your husband for an imposter. He's grieving. So are you. Grief can change people – _trauma_ can change people. But just because you've changeddoesn't mean you're different people. Does that make sense?"

 

Memories of Blaine over the years began to fly through Kurt's mind. His face twisted and he hung his head, ashamed to let her see him cry. "But I don't want him to change," he said, gasping a little at the end. "I – I want _my_ Blaine."

 

"Maybe we can focus on what _hasn't_ changed. He still loves you, right?"

 

Kurt looked up, wiping his eyes. "Yeah," he said thickly, "he says he does."

 

"Do you believe him?"

 

He thought back to their date on Saturday, the way Blaine's fingers tangled in his hair, the way he'd kissed him like his life depended on it. "I think so."

 

Dr. Jacobson nodded. "Kurt, let me ask you something. Blaine's said that he's sorry for leaving you – do you think he deserves to be forgiven for it?"

 

"Of course he does. It's not forgiveness that I'm struggling with, here. I've forgiven him already – I wouldn't have gone out with him if I hadn't. It's just – I don't know if I can trust him not to do it again."

 

"Does he trust you?"

 

"I – I think so?" Kurt sat still and quiet as he thought of the words to say what his heart already knew. "I don't know if this will make sense," he finally said. "I think he trusts me more than I trust him. But I forgave him for leaving a long time ago, and I don't think he's forgiven me for the nursery thing yet. Actually … I don't think he's forgiven himself, either."

 

Dr. Jacobson tilted her head a little. "So, to you, trust and forgiveness are two separate things?"

 

"Well, yeah. I mean, you're the psychoanalyst, so correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure I forgave the guy who harassed and assaulted me in high school a lot sooner than I ever trusted him."

 

"But you think Blaine trusts you, but hasn't forgiven you yet?"

 

Kurt went back to picking at the string on the couch. "I don't know if Blaine will ever forgive me for that," he said sadly. "I – I'm pretty sure he knows I won't ever try to pull anything like it again, though."

 

She gave him a sympathetic look. "Well, let's focus on the things that you have some control over, okay? What do you think Blaine needs to do to earn your trust again?"

 

Kurt sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He wanted them gone, wanted to glare, to freeze the sighs out of his chest. He was tired of the sighing, tired of the not-knowing, tired of trying to fix what should never have broken in the first place. "See, that's what I don't get," he said. "He's doing everything right. Pursuing me. Not drinking. Talking to me. Kissing me." He blushed, looking up at Dr. Jacobson. "He's trying really hard, I know."

 

"Then maybe all you need is a little more time."

 

* * *

 

"Hey, studmuffin," Blaine said, grinning as Nick walked through the door after work with a box of Chinese takeout. "You look happy. Good day at work? Or is it just your effervescent afterglow still hanging around?"

 

Nick set the food on the table, then fell backward onto the couch, his arms spread out wide and a huge smile on his face. "I think it's the afterglow," he sighed. "Oh my _god_. Just – oh my god."

 

"That good, huh?" Blaine patted him on the shoulder and ambled into the kitchen, grabbing two plates and utensils for them both.

 

"Blaine, he's perfect."

 

He smiled to himself, spooning rice, sesame chicken, and vegetables onto his plate. He could remember saying that very thing to Nick, the afternoon he kissed Kurt for the first time. And the second time. And the third and fourth and fifth times …

 

"You want some of everything?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.

 

Nick appeared to hop off of Cloud Nine long enough to answer. "Yeah, and I got egg rolls too – I want two of them."

 

Blaine finished serving his plate and trotted back to the couch. "Perfect, huh?" he asked, stacking bites of chicken, vegetables and rice carefully on his fork so there were equal amounts of each. "I doubt he's _perfect_ …"

 

"But he _is_ ," Nick sighed, and shoved a mouthful of chicken in his mouth. "God, I sound like a teenager, don't I?" he mumbled around it. Blaine tried hard not to roll his eyes – Nick ate like such a _boy_. It reminded him of Finn.

 

"That's okay. I think we're all allowed a moment of weakness." He smiled, hoping that Nick knew he was joking.

 

"Seriously though – I already miss him, and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. I'm pathetic."

 

"You're in _looove_ ," Blaine teased, punching him lightly on the shoulder, but a sense of unease washed over him. How many hours had it been that he'd been separated from Kurt? A lot more than twenty-four … He swallowed a lump in his throat. "I think it's sweet."

 

"He's just – god." Nick started to laugh. "He makes me so happy."

 

"Good," Blaine said, feeling anything but. He kind of regretted even bringing it up.

 

"I just don't get it – how couldn't I have seen it before? We could've had years together already …"

 

"You _have_ had years together," Blaine said sharply. He cut a piece of chicken in half and stabbed it with his fork, maybe a little forcefully than was necessary. "Don't underestimate the power of being best friends first."

 

"I know," Nick said. "It's just –" He blushed, blood rushing up his neck, over the apples of his cheeks, flooding the tips of his ears. "The sex is good. Like, _really_ good. Like, kind of mind-blowing, actually."

 

"I – that's awesome, Nick." He let the fork clatter down on his plate. He'd suddenly lost his appetite. The backs of his eyes burned.

 

"Sorry, TMI?"

 

"No, it's fine, I just –" Blaine broke off with a gasp, the tears sudden and overwhelming.

 

"Blaine?"

 

"I miss him so much," he cried, burying his face in his open palms. It felt like his heart was breaking – he wondered how many times a person's heart could break and still manage to come out beating. He thought he might be testing his limits.

 

"Oh, god, I'm sorry – I didn't even think –" Nick tentatively reached out and touched Blaine's back, keeping his hand there when Blaine didn't flinch. "Blaine, I'm so sorry – I'm just rubbing it in your face, god, I'm a horrible friend –"

 

" _No_." Blaine wrenched himself back up, a few heaving sobs still left in him. He swiped angrily at his eyes, mad that he couldn't just be fucking _happy_ for once. "Don't _ever_ say that again, Nick," he said, and it was in no uncertain terms an order. "I've just –" He paused to take a gasping breath, "I've been living on your couch for a _month_. You are the _farthest_ thing from a bad friend …"

 

Nick reached over and hugged him, squeezing tight, and Blaine squeezed right back, so thankful for his friend's intuition. He was desperate for touch, for some sort of contact – he was starving slowly, like Kurt had been before Rachel came along with her protein shakes.

 

He took a slow, deep breath, then managed to let go. "God, I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I just keep having these random crying fits …" He laughed ruefully. "I need meds or something."

 

Then he blinked, looking down at his lap as he realized what he'd just said.

 

"Blaine?" Nick said cautiously.

 

His voice grew small. "Do I need meds, Nick? Am I that crazy?"

 

"I don't know if you need them or not – I think that's maybe something that you and your therapist lady should decide – but I don't think you're crazy, even if you do need them," Nick said. "You know my mom has been off and on them several times, right?"

 

Blaine looked up at him, surprised. "No," he said softly. "No, I didn't know that."

 

"Yeah, the first time was after her post-partum depression when my brother was born, and then she needed them again for a while after my grandma died. There's nothing wrong with needing help, Blaine, whether it's with a therapist or medication or whatever."

 

"I know," Blaine sighed, fighting with the voice inside his head again. "I just – I feel so stupid and _weak_ –"

 

Nick's voice was gentle as he drew Blaine into his arms again. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he crooned soft in Blaine's ear. "It's gonna be alright, man."

 

"I hope so," Blaine whispered, and let himself be held.

 

* * *

 

**Tuesday, October 3 rd, 2023**

"Hey, Kurt?"

 

Kurt looked up from the pan of eggs he was scrambling. "Yeah, Rach?"

 

"I probably won't be home tonight – I've got a bunch of errands to run, and then the cast is going out after the show tonight. It'll probably be easier for me to just sleep at my place, if you don't mind."

 

"Of course not. I'm not trying to hold you hostage, here."

 

She paused, looking down. "I – I've been thinking, actually … you've seemed so much better lately. You're eating, and things are getting better with Blaine, and …" She trailed off.

 

It suddenly dawned on Kurt what she was trying to say. He looked back down at the eggs in the pan, colored with peppers and cheese and tomatoes, and absently stirred them again. Rachel had been a wonderful companion for over a month, but she was right – he _was_ doing better. It wouldn't be fair of him to ask her to stay any longer. That didn't make it any easier, though, wouldn't make him miss her any less. "Rachel, you're allowed to say it," he said, still staring down into the pan.

 

He heard her take a deep breath. "I think it might be time for me to go home for good."

 

Kurt turned around to see her eyes filling with tears. "Oh, sweetie …" He held his arms out and she stepped into them, pressing her face into his chest.

 

"I was so worried," she sniffled as he squeezed her tiny frame tight. "I thought you might not come back to me …"

 

He grinned down at her. "And miss my chance to gloat when I finally get more famous than you are? _Never_." She managed a laugh, and he kissed the top of her head. "Thank you," he said thickly. "For everything."

 

 "You're my best friend," she said, lifting her watery eyes to meet his. "What else was I supposed to do? It's kind of my job to take care of you, right?"

 

He grinned again, letting go of her waist with one hand so he could swipe at his eyes with the back of it. "Right. Just like we took care of you when you broke up with Finn … and Jeremy … and _Ansel_ ," he sneered.

 

Rachel squawked a strangled laugh. "Oh, god, don't remind me of _Ansel_! I don't know what I was thinking …"

 

"Me either." He cocked his head and fondly gazed at her. "We've been through a lot together over the years, haven't we?"

 

"We have," she said, her voice wavering a little. "And I couldn't be happier that it was all with you."

 

" _Because I knew you …_ " Kurt sang softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

 

" _Because I knew you …_ " she echoed.

 

" _I have been changed for good,_ " they intoned together, then broke off laughing.

 

"God, we're being divas – I'm glad Blaine's not here to see this. He'd never let us hear the end of it."

 

"Whatever!" she laughed, her eyes shining through the tears. "Blaine's just as dramatic as we are, if not more. Whatever happened to the Gap Attack? Or the Great Sexuality Crisis of 2011? Or that time in college, when that TV couple he liked so much broke up for like six episodes, and he mourned the _entire time_? Or –"

 

"Okay, okay, I see your point," Kurt said, his eyes twinkling. "No need to relive Blaine's embarrassing ancient history. Now go – get out, run your errands, reclaim your life as a young starlet. Just don't forget to call me for brunch."

 

"Oh, Kurt," Rachel beamed. "Thank you for calling me young!"

 

"With as much as you've done for me? I'll go change your age on your Wikipedia page to 26, and no one would ever know the difference."

 

* * *

 

**Wednesday, October 4 th, 2023**

Blaine sat at the table he'd reclaimed as his own at Bean Me Up, typing furiously on his laptop, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Apparently when he'd started writing on Saturday, it had opened a floodgate and the words kept pouring forth, pages and pages and pages of words.

 

Braxton, who was working that day and was very obviously trying not to ask if Blaine was alright, brought a second full cup of steaming coffee and set it down by Blaine's laptop. He didn't say anything, but squeezed Blaine's shoulder as he walked back behind the counter and began grinding beans.

 

Blaine took a breath, his shoulder still tingling from the contact. He was becoming increasingly aware that he was touch-starved, and there wasn't much he could do about it until Kurt asked him to move back in. He stopped typing to pop several of his aching knuckles, looking over what he'd written. The words on the screen were vicious and dark and hurt and angry and all, every single one of them, inspired by his father.

 

He picked up the cup that Braxton had left, scalding his tongue with the first swallow. When half the cup was empty, he set it down and started typing again.

 

And an hour later, at two forty-four on the dot, he finished his sentence, shut his laptop, packed his bag and began walking toward the subway. He was late – he had sixteen minutes to make a trip that typically took twenty-five, but the words just wouldn't stop, and he hoped Dr. Jacobson would understand, that she might even be _proud_ of him for finally facing his oldest and most destructive demon – his father's voice.

 

When he finally boarded the subway, a little out of breath from trying to cut the time of his walk in half, he took out the notebook he'd been using as a guide for his sessions with Dr. Jacobson. His hands shook, and that in addition to the rocking subway car made his typically neat script a little wobbly, but the words were unmistakable.

 

_ Topics To Discuss Today _

_-Why my father hates me_

_-Do I need medication?_

 

* * *

 

"You seem fidgety today, Blaine."

 

Blaine jerked his head up, stilling his hands where they'd been rubbing back and forth over his corduroys. "Do I?"

 

"Well, your knees are jiggling and you've been rubbing your hands on your legs, and you won't look me in the eye. Is something going on?" Dr. Jacobson asked.

 

 _Everything_ was going on. He'd seen more of Kurt in the last week than he had in a month – which was to say three times, precisely. But they were talking on the phone almost every night, and their conversations were always civil, sometimes even flirty. When Kurt flirted with him, Blaine's heart did somersaults, and he still hadn't decided if it was the best feeling in the world or if it just made him dizzy.

 

There was the writing, which just kept pouring out of him. It was like he'd been dammed up all this time, and something – whether Kurt, or Dr. Jacobson, or himself, or some other outside force, he wasn't sure – had just unclogged him. He wrote early, he wrote late, he wrote through meals, he wrote and wrote and wrote and none of it was worth anything as it stood, but he knew it could be edited and parsed down and made into something good, if he tried hard enough.

 

But it brought up so many things, so many excruciating feelings that he'd been repressing, and _god_ he just _hurt_ so much.

 

"I – yes." It was too simple an answer, but he couldn't find the right words to explain any further. Instead, he opened his notebook to the correct page and handed it to Dr. Jacobson, who stared at it for what seemed to be the longest thirty seconds of his life.

 

"We'll revisit your dad in a few minutes," she said, "but – medication. What kind of medication do you mean, exactly?"

 

"Anti-" Suddenly Blaine's mouth felt like it was full of cottonballs. He cleared his throat. "Antidepressants."

 

"And why do you think you need antidepressants, Blaine?"

 

"Because." God, why wouldn't his mouth work? He tried again. "Because I'm depressed."

 

She nodded slowly. "How long have you felt this way?"

 

"I –" Blaine looked at his lap. "I've been depressed off and on for my entire life." It was the first time he'd ever said the words out loud to anyone. "That's kind of where my dad comes in, but – yeah. This time, I guess I realized after I started drinking one night and I couldn't stop. Which was after I walked out on Kurt, and his best friend yelled at me and said I was killing him. I – I don't think I've mentioned any of that, but –" he gestured to his laptop. "This kind of makes things come to the surface."

 

"Your laptop?"

 

"I'm writing," Blaine said. "But – Dr. Jacobson, do you think meds aren't a good idea?"

 

"Oh, no," she said. "I think they're an excellent idea, especially if you feel like you need them."

 

Blaine gripped the edge of the couch tightly. "I don't _want_ to need them," he said, his voice thick. "I just – I feel awful a lot of the time. I get in these funks that I can't get out of, and I snapped at one of my best friends, and –"

 

"Blaine, everybody snaps sometimes."

 

"But I –" He stopped rubbing his hand over his eyes. "I don't know. I don't _know_. I just feel like I'll never be happy again, and I feel like it's something wrong _inside_ of me, and I thought that maybe – am I being stupid?"

 

"You're not being stupid at all," she said gently. "I'll set you up with Dr. Seang – he's the psychiatrist we work with here – as soon as I can, okay?" Blaine nodded. "Now – you wanted to talk about your dad?"

 

* * *

 

**Thursday, October 5 th, 2023**

Blaine fidgeted nervously as he sat in an uncomfortable chair in the pharmacy, waiting for his name to be called. He was uneasy – no, that was wrong, he was _terrified_ – after the appointment with the psychiatrist, after hearing the side effects and the options and the strictest instructions to _call immediately if you feel like harming yourself, Blaine_.

 

He'd almost thrown up on the sidewalk outside the office.

 

And then he was at the pharmacy, the CVS where he'd just bought a jug of milk and a bottle of motrin the week prior, hoping and praying that the friendly girl who'd checked him out wouldn't figure out what he was there for when he walked all the way to the back of the store.

 

He eyed the pharmacist behind the counter who was laughing about something with one of the techs. He wondered if she realized that she was about to fill up a bottle with pills that would change his whole life, wondered if she was this blasé every time she filled a prescription for antidepressants. He wondered if anyone else on antidepressants got so angry, watching other people laugh.

 

God, he hated that he needed those pills.

 

Then his phone rang and he jerked in his chair, startled at the vibration in his pocket.

 

"Kurt?" His hands shook so hard that he nearly dropped the phone.

 

"Hi. I need to talk to you. I – I'm bored to tears, Blaine, and I feel like my creativity is dying and I'm thinking of –"

 

"This is. Um. This is maybe not the best time," Blaine stammered.

 

"Oh." Kurt's voice fell flat. "Where are you? Blaine, are you drinking?"

 

"I – I'm at the pharmacy."

 

" _Blaine Anderson-Hummel_?" the pharmacist called from behind the counter, looking right at him.

 

"The pharmacy?" Kurt asked, confused. "Are you sick?"

 

"I –" Blaine laughed morosely. "Some people would say so."

 

"You're being cryptic."

 

" _Blaine Anderson-Hummel_?" The pharmacist repeated his name, the mirth gone from her face, replaced by tired resignation. He wondered if she liked her job at all. He sighed, knees shaking as he shuffled out of the chair, and walked to the counter.

 

"Alright, Mr. Anderson-Hummel, do you have any questions?" she asked tersely, looking pointedly at his phone. He was being rude.

 

"Kurt, I have to go. Can we – coffee? What are you doing right now? Will you meet me for coffee?"

 

"I'll be waiting for you."

 

There was no goodbye, only a dead silence on the other end of the line. Blaine turned his attention back to the pharmacist. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s alright. Now, you should take one capsule once a day, at the same time each day. I suggest before bed, because they can make you drowsy. Don’t ever take more than your prescribed dose, even if you miss a pill. Do you have any questions?"  
  
Blaine blinked at the pharmacist, her big, dark eyes staring at him expectantly. _Is this a mistake? Is it going to change my life forever? Will I still be able to write? Am I going to feel numb?_ "Um, no," he said. "No questions."  
  
“Okay. Have a nice afternoon.”  
  
“Yeah … you too,” Blaine mumbled, his face flushing as he took the bag from her. It was all he could do to keep from running from the store as fast as his legs could carry him. He managed a tight smile at the cashier as he passed her on his way out the door before sliding to the sidewalk and leaning his head against the bricks, breathing deep.

 

* * *

 

Kurt walked into Bean Me Up with his sketchpad, content to wait as long as Blaine required. They needed to talk, at length and openly. He needed to do things right this time around. Kurt's decision to return to work would affect Blaine eventually, if he ever moved back in – _be honest, Kurt, if you ever_ let _him move back in_ – and he deserved a bigger part in the decision than he'd been given before. Before, as Kurt was loathe to remember, he'd done everything wrong, pouncing when Blaine was weak and opinion-less after being so well fucked he could barely remember his name. It hadn't been fair, and Kurt hadn't even given him a chance to say no.

 

He wouldn't make that mistake again.

 

But before he got to any of that, before he whined about how bored he was lately and gushed over the hours he'd spent sketching in the last week, how the new designs were _good_ and marketable and needed to be seen – how _Kurt_ needed to be seen – he needed to make sure his husband was alright. An uneasy feeling was rolling around in Kurt's abdomen since that last phone call with Blaine. Rationally, he knew that going to the pharmacy could be as simple as "I have a sinus infection," but Blaine had seemed so skittish that it couldn't have been good news. He wouldn't feel better until he heard it straight from Blaine's mouth that there was no cancer diagnosis, no heart condition.

 

Kurt walked to the counter, placed their orders, found a table by the window and settled into a chair to wait, opening his sketchpad to try and pass the time. It was so easy to get lost in it, perfecting the contour of a sleeve, mixing the perfect shade of color with his Prismacolors. He was finishing the details on a ruffled dress, completely unaware of how much time had passed, when the bell on the front door jingled. Kurt looked up and there was Blaine, his hair a little windblown and his brow knitted tight.

 

"Hi, honey," Kurt said gently, packing his pencils away as Blaine approached. He nodded to the empty chair waiting for Blaine across the table. "Come sit." Blaine sat without speaking, a CVS bag clutched tightly in his fist. Kurt held up a piece of biscotti. "Want some?"

 

Blaine nodded, taking the cookie from Kurt's hand. He dipped it in his coffee cup, then looked up. "I didn't mean to be short with you earlier," he said, a slight tremor to his voice that only Kurt would ever recognize. "I was waiting, and they called my name …"

 

"It's no problem, Blaine; I didn't think anything of it. I don't mean to pry, but if you don't mind telling me – what were you getting at the pharmacy? Are you okay? It's just – if you have cancer or something –"

 

"Oh," Blaine interrupted, his eyes widening. "Oh, no, it's nothing like that … God, I feel so stupid now." Placing the biscotti on a plate, he opened the bag with a loud crinkle. He took out an orange prescription bottle and set it down in front of Kurt.

 

Kurt picked it up, his heart thudding in his chest as he read the label.

 

_Fluoxetine. 10 mg. Take one capsule by mouth once a day._

"Fluoxetine?"

 

"Prozac," Blaine whispered.

 

"Oh," Kurt said softly, setting the bottle on the table and sitting back in his seat. This changed things. This meant Blaine was trying, _really_ trying. This meant _hope._ It wasn't the pills as much as Blaine admitting he was sick, that he needed more help than either of them realized. And the prospect of something actually _helping_ – it was like a light at the end of Kurt's very long, very dark tunnel.

 

"So, if this is gonna be a deal-breaker for you," Blaine was saying as he stuffed the bottle back into the bag and cast his eyes away, "can you tell me now so I can decide whether I'm taking them or not? I just – I need them, but if it means losing you –"

 

"Taking care of yourself will never mean losing me." Kurt reached across the table, slid his hand over Blaine's. His skin was smooth, cool to the touch under his fingers. "Blaine, this is huge. This is – it's good, it makes me feel _better_ –"

 

"Really?" The disbelief written all over Blaine's face made Kurt's heart sink.

 

"Oh, honey," Kurt sighed, "of course it does." He paused, a little hesitant to ask the next question. "Do you maybe want to come home for a while this afternoon? I can fix us some dinner, and we can just talk?"

 

"You'd let me?"

 

"I _want_ you to. It's felt so empty lately, Blaine – nobody fills the space like you do."

 

Blaine blinked at him. "Do you mean that?"

 

"I do," Kurt said, squeezing his hand hard. "I'm not – god, I feel like a jerk saying I'm not ready for you to live at home yet, but …"

 

"It's ok," Blaine mumbled, slumping back in his chair. "I understand."

 

Kurt didn't let go of his hand. "Just because I'm not there yet doesn't mean I won't be soon."

 

* * *

 

Kurt stood in the kitchen, slicing butternut squash to roast for a warm fall salad as Blaine plunked out a listless melody on the piano in the living room.

 

It wasn't until a few bars into the song that he realized what Blaine was playing, and he began to sing softly to himself as slid the squash in the oven to roast and grabbed a couple cloves of garlic from the vegetable bowl above the sink.

 

" _Don't know why there's no sun up in the sky, stormy weather, since my man and I ain't together … keeps rainin' all the time …_ "

 

Kurt's voice was sad and a little hollow as he sang, matching the somber tone of the piano. He glanced out the doorway of the kitchen. Blaine's fingers were moving across the keys as if they were separate from the rest of his body, which was sagged over the keyboard like a lifeless ragdoll. His eyes were closed, but the bottle of Prozac sat on the cheek of the piano right in his line of vision, and Kurt knew he'd been staring at it.

 

Kurt sighed, still singing softly, and walked into the living room, straddling the bench next to Blaine, nearly stepping on Romeo, who was curled up at Blaine's feet. He wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist, tucked his chin over Blaine's soft, lambswool covered shoulder and sang into his ear.

 

" _When he went away, the blues walked in and met me – if he stays away, ol' rocking chair will get me …_ "

 

" _All I do is pray the Lord above will let me walk in the sun once more …_ " Blaine sang softly with him, lifting his hands off the keys. His torso twisted around as he gripped the back of Kurt's head with one hand and curled his other arm around Kurt's waist.

 

" _Keeps rainin' all the time_ ," Kurt whispered, pressing a kiss to Blaine's temple. "I've got to go finish dinner, honey, but –"

 

"Do you need any help?"

 

Kurt pulled back a few inches, studied him. Blaine's eyes didn't quite meet his own. "Sure," he said slowly, tracing his fingers over the outline of Blaine's face. "I'd like that."

 

Blaine untangled himself from their embrace and rose from the piano bench, wordlessly walking into the kitchen. Romeo whined and trotted in behind him, and Kurt glanced at the pill bottle one last time before following them both.

 

Blaine was already mincing the cloves of garlic sitting on the cutting board when Kurt walked in, reaching above Blaine's head to retrieve a bowl from the top cabinet. "I've missed this," Blaine said softly. "Being here. Cooking with you."

 

"I've missed it too," Kurt said, aching a bit with nostalgia. They were always _impressively_ talented together, doing the Dance of the Tiny Kitchen… He grabbed a lemon and started squeezing it into a strainer over a measuring cup, glad to have something to do with his hands.

 

"So what's next?"

 

"I guess …" Kurt paused. What _was_ next? Letting Blaine stay for more than just dinner? And how would that conversation even go? "Maybe we'll just wait and see? I know that's a terrible answer, but –"

 

"No, Kurt, I mean – I'm done with the garlic. What else do you need me to do?" Blaine asked, gesturing to the little pile of minced garlic on the cutting board.

 

"Oh." _Stupid_. Kurt wanted to thunk his head into the refrigerator door. Blaine must have thought he'd lost his mind. "Um – whisk the lemon juice and the garlic together in this bowl, and I'll get the tahini out …"

 

"Okay." Blaine did as he asked, the metal whisk making pinging sounds on the sides of the bowl. "I talked with Dr. Jacobson about my dad on Wednesday," he said, not looking up from what he was stirring.

 

"Oh yeah? How'd that go?" Kurt asked, trying to keep his tone light.

 

"It was hard. But good, I think? I – Kurt, I'm writing again. I can't _stop_ writing, actually," he said with a little chuckle.

 

Kurt froze with the refrigerator door standing wide open. "Seriously?"

 

"Yeah. And it's helping? Maybe?"

 

"Oh, honey, that's _wonderful_." Kurt shut the fridge, beaming at his husband. If Blaine was writing again, it meant that things were falling back into some semblance of normal. That Blaine was trying. That the Blaine he'd always known was maybe, somehow, crawling back to him.

 

"Yeah, I read her part of what I wrote. It's sort of stream of consciousness right now, but … I don't know. It's bringing lots of things to the surface. And – I don't know how stream of consciousness is supposed to give you any sort of clarity, but that's what it seems to be doing for me." He stopped. "I don't know if I'm making any sense."

 

"You're making perfect sense."

 

"But – that's enough about me for one day," Blaine said, looking down at the bowl of lemon juice. "You said on the phone you wanted to talk to me about something."

 

"I do," Kurt said, turning to spoon tahini into the bowl. "Keep whisking, okay?" Blaine nodded, and Kurt's eyes darted to his forearm, which flexed appealingly with each turn of the whisk. "I want to do things right this time. I – I've been thinking about going back to work. I'm so bored here at home all the time. I've been sketching this week and – god, this sounds conceited, but I think my mojo is back. But it's not just about what I want, Blaine," he said, sliding his hand over Blaine's, stilling it on the edge of the bowl. "That was where I went wrong last time, and I won't do it again. If you aren't ready for me to be caught up in work, just say so. I have my job, regardless, and Marc said to take all the time we both need, and –"

 

"Kurt," Blaine said, his voice gentle. 

 

"Yes?"

"You have my blessing."

 

"Really?"

 

Blaine grinned. "Really. You're the most talented person I know – it would be a waste for you to just sit at home and –"

 

And then Blaine wasn't talking anymore because Kurt was kissing him, pressing him back against the refrigerator.

 

"Wow," Blaine managed to get out between kisses. "Right answer?"

 

"No," said Kurt. "Just – thank you." He pulled Blaine into another searing kiss.

 

" _Jesus_ , I miss you," Blaine sighed as Kurt moved down Blaine's jawline to his neck, letting the prickly stubble scrape against his mouth and cheek and _god_ that shouldn't have turned him on as much as it did. Kurt nipped down the side of Blaine's neck, tucking his nose into the shawl collar of Blaine's sweater and sucking at the curve between Blaine's neck and shoulder.

 

"Miss you, too," Kurt mumbled against his skin, then looked up with a grin. "I have to say, I like this stubble thing you've got going on a lot better than the beard."

 

"Glad I shaved yesterday, then," Blaine grinned back. "Kurt – please?" he asked, his hands resting on the button of Kurt's pants. He stilled, waiting for permission.

 

But it was permission that Kurt couldn't give. He'd built it up in his head, how their first time together in over a month would go. Even though he knew it was stupid and shouldn't matter, he wanted romance. He wanted a date, he wanted wine and candles and, even as glad as he was about it, he maybe wanted _not_ to have just been told that his husband would be starting on antidepressants.

 

"I –" he hesitated.

 

Blaine's face fell. "Never mind," he said, pulling his hands away and crossing his arms over his chest. "We need to finish dinner."

 

"I'm sorry," Kurt said helplessly, wanting to _weep_ over how quickly the mood had changed. "But – soon, I swear. I know I –"

 

"No," Blaine interrupted. "It's fine. I can be patient." Kurt brushed his hand through Blaine's hair one last time and moved to kiss him, but Blaine shrunk away. "Kurt, I – it's not that I don't want to be close to you, but – it's harder, the more proximity –"

 

"Oh. Of course, I'm sorry," Kurt sighed, stepping away to retrieve the olive oil. "Here," he said, handing Blaine the bottle. "Measure out two tablespoons and whisk it in while I toss the squash and the chickpeas together." He paused. "Blaine, I –"

 

"Please don't," Blaine said, his eyes wide and pleading. "It's just – I've had a really long day. Can we just forget that happened and finish dinner and eat and pretend that things are normal for a while? Please?"

 

Kurt wanted to laugh. Everything had been so far from normal for so long that he barely even remembered what normal _meant_ anymore. But he felt guilty for cutting Blaine off earlier, so he nodded. "Sure we can, honey," he said, reaching for Blaine's hand, feeling a little better when the gesture was returned. "I hope we won't have to pretend for too much longer."

 

* * *

 

Dinner was delicious.

 

Blaine's heart felt too big for his body as they sat at the table, butternut squash melting into caramelized velvet on his tongue. He listened with his chin propped on his hand as Kurt chattered away about how much better he felt, how proud he was of himself that Rachel had felt safe enough to move out. It was one of the loveliest things that Blaine had ever witnessed. He didn't believe in miracles, but he thought the little pill that Kurt popped half an hour before dinner might have been close to one – not once during their meal did Kurt turn pale, stop to swallow hard or push his plate away.

 

After dinner they moved to the couch to talk, the TV on low in the background, but within a few minutes their conversation faltered and an awkward silence fell over the room. Blaine shifted uncomfortably as they pretended to watch a house-hunter show on HGTV. There were too many ghosts in the condo – everywhere he looked, on the walls, at the ground, down the hall, at the bookcase, some memory of his life with Kurt would swoop in and make his stomach flip-flop. He avoided looking at Violet's room completely.

 

When the memories got to be too much and his knee started jiggling nervously, he reached out and took Kurt's hand. "Can I see those sketches? The ones you've been doing this week?"

 

"Oh," Kurt said. "Um – sure. Hang on; let me get them."

 

Blaine sat patiently as Kurt ambled over to the kitchen table, watching his long strides. It dawned on him that in spite of everything she'd said to him, he needed to write Rachel a thank-you note for taking care of Kurt and force-feeding him those protein shakes. If it weren't for her, he worried that he'd never have seen those long legs walk that way ever again.

 

When Kurt returned to the couch, Blaine tugged at the book in his hands, but Kurt didn't let go. "I have to warn you first …"

 

"Warn me? About what?"

 

"I just don't want it to be a shock." He paused, still refusing to relinquish the sketchbook. "They're baby clothes, Blaine."

 

"Oh." He sat back on the couch, feeling a little like someone had just knocked the wind out of him. But then he looked over to the piano where his Prozac bottle still sat. He thought of the thousands of words in his Word documents. He remembered the exercises in "self-soothing" that he'd learned in therapy, the fights he had with his inner voice on the pages of his notepad.

 

And he realized in that moment that Kurt was just doing the same thing. Blaine and Dr. Jacobson talked a lot about ways he could hurt himself versus ways he could help himself during his individual therapy sessions. It dawned on him that Kurt probably discussed the same thing with her, that _Kurt_ needed ways to help himself as well. Sketching baby clothes wasn't meant as a personal affront to Blaine at all – it was just Kurt's way of dealing with the last four months, of trying to heal himself, just like taking the Zofran so he could eat and going to therapy.

 

Blaine wasn't sure how to vocalize his thoughts, so he wordlessly took the sketchbook from Kurt's hand and opened to the first page. He gasped when he saw them, the tiny, beautiful, stylish dresses clearly designed for tiny, beautiful, stylish babies. Blaine felt his heart stop momentarily.

 

"I –" Blaine swallowed. "Kurt, they're gorgeous," he breathed.

 

"You think so?" Kurt asked, clearly pleased.

 

"God, _yes_."

 

"I designed them for Violet originally," Kurt said softly, reaching down to trace his finger over one of the dresses. "But then – I don't know, I like it. It's different. So it kind of grew …"

 

Blaine turned the page, his eyes widening. "It's – it's like little me. And little you. Oh, Kurt –"

 

On the page before him were cropped yellow corduroys, tiny newsboy caps, miniature bow ties, saddle shoes, then lower, tailored pants and vests, skinny ties, skinnier jeans, and a tiny, tiny pair of Doc Marten-esque boots.

 

"For if we had a son. I know they're not practical, but I started with clothes that reminded me of you, because the world needs more little Blaines running around …"

 

Blaine took Kurt's hand and pressed a hard kiss to it. "You know how I said it would be a waste of your talent if you _didn't_ go back to work? This is what I'm talking about. Waste of talent, Kurt." Kurt smiled above him. "Seriously," Blaine continued. "You're showing these to Marc, right? Like, the day you go back. You need to schedule a meeting with him because he needs to see them."

 

"Thank you," Kurt said softly. "I – they were just for me, starting out. It helped. It's _helping_ – like your writing. I was afraid you might be mad."

 

"I – no. I think I just realized that a lot of the stuff I was mad at you for? You were doing just to get by. I think – I don't know why I thought everything you did was a personal attack on me, but –"

 

Kurt smiled. "We can talk about it in therapy tomorrow."

 

"Right." Blaine went quiet for a moment. "The only thing is – I just wish we'd had her long enough so that she could've worn stuff that you made her. It would've been so special."

 

Kurt sighed. "I do, too. I wish we'd had her long enough to do a lot of things, honey."

 

"I know." Blaine patted the couch. "Sit beside me?"

 

Kurt gave him a sad smile and dropped to the couch, tucking his arms around Blaine's waist. "I'm glad you're here tonight," he said. "Do you want to watch a movie before you go back to Nick's?"

 

* * *

 

**Monday, October 9 th, 2023**

"Kurt, these are good."

 

It was Monday morning and Kurt sat in Marc Jacobs' office, his form fuller and his cheeks pinker than they were the last time he was there. "Thank you," he said, beaming. He was proud of his work, knew it was good, but there wasn't anything quite like hearing it from his boss.

 

"These are _really_ good," Marc continued. "As in, I'm seriously considering scrapping the entire kids' line and starting over with these, kind of good. This is coming at such a good time, too …"

 

Kurt stared at him. "You aren't serious."

 

"I might be."

 

"But I've been _gone_ –"

 

"Well, clearly the break did you well. You were fantastic before, but my _god_ , Kurt, this makes me want to have babies just so I can dress them in your clothes –" He stopped, his eyes widening. "I'm sorry. Was that out of line?"

 

"No, no," Kurt said, shaking his head. "They're – it's sort of a tribute. To Violet. Or – well, I guess to 'my children' in the abstract sense, not that we'll get to have any," he said, using air quotes. "It's just – I don't know, it's what I would've wanted to dress my kids in."

 

"Well, whatever it is, it's working for me. Do you think you could do more?"

 

Could he do more? His head was _swimming_ with pieces, onesies, sleepers, dresses, tiny little bow ties and miniature wayfarers. "I have _closets_ full of ideas," he said.

 

Marc grinned. "That's what I like to hear. I'll have to make some arrangements, of course, so for right now you'll go back to Mens' Ready to Wear, but what are your feelings regarding upward mobility in this company?"

 

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "I'm a little confused."

 

Marc looked at him seriously. "Everything I'm about to tell you has to stay in this room."

 

"Of course," Kurt nodded.

 

"Jackie – the current director of the kids' line, as you know – gave me her notice three days ago. She's leaving in three weeks to go to Ralph Lauren and head up their girls' department. They recruited her pretty heavily, apparently, as well they should have, because you know she's very good. I was actually quite torn up about it, but after seeing this …" he gestured to Kurt's sketchbook.

 

Kurt blinked at him, his mind whirring. "So – what exactly are you saying, Marc?"

 

Mark smiled slyly. "I'm not saying anything right now."

 

"But, hypothetically speaking …"

 

"Well, if we're speaking hypothetically … if I were to hypothetically have an open position as creative director of the children's line, would you consider hypothetically stepping into it if I hypothetically offered it to you?"

 

Kurt's jaw dropped. "The _director_?"

 

"Hypothetically speaking, of course."

 

"I – but I don't have any experience with kids' clothes!"

 

"Clearly," Marc said, holding up a page in Kurt's sketchbook, "it doesn't matter."

 

"I –" Kurt couldn't think. He could hardly _breathe_ – Marc Jacobs was practically offering him a director position in the company. Which would mean a hefty raise. Which would make the debt left over from their attempted adoption considerably easier to manage. Which would mean less stress, and a potentially happier marriage, and an even more stable work environment, and the potential of opening his own line being a bigger possibility, and – Marc was staring at him expectantly. Right. He was supposed to be answering a question. "Yes. Absolutely, I accept. Um, hypothetically."

 

"Good. We'll be in touch about this, Kurt – but until I can get things in order, I can't stress enough how imperative your silence is. No one else knows that Jackie's leaving yet, and I don't want this to be spread around the studio."

 

"Of course," Kurt said, his heart threatening to jump right out of his body. "I won't even tell Blaine yet."

 

Marc smiled. "How are you two, anyway?"

 

"We're – getting there," Kurt said, thinking of the increasing frequency of their kisses, of the fact that they were talking – _really_ talking – to each other again.

 

"Is he back at home with you yet?"

 

"Not yet, but soon," Kurt answered. He was surer of it every time he said the words. "I've gotten to the point where I miss him more than I'm mad at him. We're in couple's therapy, and that's going well, and – things aren't quite _good_ , yet, but they're definitely better."

 

"Sounds like you're going in the right direction, then. In many ways," Marc said, closing Kurt's sketchbook and handing it back to him. "I hope you're as serious about what we've discussed today as I am."

 

"I am," Kurt assured him. "Believe me – you've just made my entire year."

 

"Good," Marc said with a smile. "Now, go get to work – I know Tori's beside herself she's so excited to see you."


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kurt gets good news, Blaine asks him on a date, and things get pretty hot and heavy...

**Chapter 29**

**Wednesday, October 11 th, 2023**

Blaine looked up from his laptop as Nick stomped into his apartment, slamming the door against the wall.

 

"Bad day?"

 

Nick scowled at him. "You have no idea. God, I need a beer. Want one?"

 

"Sure," Blaine said. "What happened?"

 

"The system crashed and my last project didn't get backed up for some reason and it's due tomorrow at eight _fucking_ o'clock in the _fucking_ morning and I had a Skype date with Jeff tonight, and –" He stopped, tugging his fingers through his hair. "You know those days that _everything_ goes wrong? This was one of them."

 

"Man, that _sucks_ ," Blaine said, getting up and walking into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out two Ithaca Cold Fronts. "Here," he said, handing one to Nick. "Drink up."

 

"Thanks," Nick said, falling backward onto the couch. "I'm just gonna have this one, and then I've got to get to work." He took a long drink of his beer, then looked at Blaine. "Actually, if you want to sleep in a bed for once, I'll probably be up all night."

 

"I – okay, if you're sure," Blaine said, remembering late writing nights, how much easier it was to nap and then wake up on time when he slept on the couch.

 

"I'm sure. So how was _your_ day?"

 

"It was okay." Blaine took a swallow of his beer before continuing, allowing the caramel-malty fizz to bubble on his tongue. "I wrote a lot – I don't know how much of it is even publishable, but right now I'm just sort of word-vomiting in empty documents."

 

Nick nodded encouragingly. "Well, at least you're getting stuff out of your head and on paper. Why was it just okay?"

 

Blaine looked at Nick with a mixture of disbelief and respect, wishing he could make himself as selfless as his friend. He was so grateful for Nick's heart. Who else would put his own bad day aside to talk things out, would let a high school friend in a stupid crisis sleep on his couch for over a month? "I don't know," Blaine said. "I think I'm getting impatient."

 

"Impatient about what?" Nick asked with a knowing smile.

 

"Moving back with Kurt. Not that your company isn't stellar, but I'd rather be with my husband."

 

"No hard feelings, man." Nick took a swig of beer, then looked back at Blaine. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

 

Blaine took a breath, trying to stay calm, to remember what he'd just been thinking about Nick's selfless heart. What was he going to _do_ about it? He was going to therapy twice a week. He'd seen a psychiatrist and had started on antidepressants. He'd apologized and apologized and apologized again, had drawn Kurt flowers on a napkin, had kissed him, then kissed him some more, had helped him make dinner … He took another breath. "What do you mean, what am I going to do about it?"

 

"I mean, maybe you need to suck it up and ask him out on a date. He fell for you once – hard, too, god, even _I_ remember what his face looked like the first time you guys met. I bet you can make him fall for you again."

 

"It's not the falling that's the problem." Blaine laughed drily. "I left. In Kurt's world, that was basically like pushing him off a bridge. He's fallen plenty."

 

"Well maybe you need to throw him a life preserver, then." Nick paused. "Actually – does the drowning Kurt analogy really work here?"

 

Blaine chuckled, a real laugh this time. "Not really, no. Kurt's never really been the drowning type. Knowing him, he's hanging onto the underside of the bridge stewing about it."

 

Nick grinned. "I didn't think so. But what I was trying to say – maybe you need to pursue him, Blaine. Make him know that you still want him."

 

Blaine was pretty positive that Kurt was aware how much he wanted him, considering the fact that he popped a fairly intense hard-on anytime Kurt was around lately, but he wasn't going to mention that to Nick. "We've been on dates. Several of them. Do you think one more is going to show more effort than taking _Prozac_?"

 

"I don't think that it'll help _more_ , necessarily. But – doesn't Kurt still like romance? And weren't you always the king of maybe ill-advised but still very grand gestures? I know that coffee is your thing, and it's nostalgic and sweet, but Blaine – pull some strings! You've been on the _New York Times_ Best-Seller List, _twice_. Lots of people know your name, and I doubt that excludes five-star chefs in this city."

 

Blaine sighed. "You know I hate using people like that."

 

"You aren't using them if they offer. I'm not telling you to demand a table with the best view of the city or anything, just – tell them your name. Tell them that you'd really like a nice night out with your husband, Kurt. Is that really so bad, especially if it would help expedite the moving-home process?"

 

Blaine contemplated this. _Was_ it really so bad, using his popularity as a means to an end? If he dropped his name, just this once … "I'm still not convinced that it'll help, but –"

 

Nick grinned. "It can't hurt to try, though, right? And I bet you can make the calls tonight – it's just six. The restaurants will be open till at least ten."

 

"Well …"

 

"Come on, Blaine, you've read the fanmail. Your books _help_ people. I'm sure that somebody would be willing to do you a favor in return."

 

He sighed and pictured Kurt, beautiful and laughing in a suit, a glass of wine in his hand. "Okay, fine. Any suggestions about where I should start?"

 

* * *

 

Kurt was relaxing in bed, sketching with Romeo curled up beside him. It'd been a good week, and he was pleased that he could say that and _mean_ it – he'd gotten caught up on all the studio gossip thanks to the tiny slow period that always came right after the shows, and everyone at work seemed glad for his return. And it felt _good_ , designing again, like he was back doing what he was meant for.

 

The only thing still missing was Blaine.

 

He'd just finished a little boy's look, very Blaine-inspired with cropped pants, saddle shoes and a cardigan – he couldn't get Blaine off his mind; he was always pining, day-dreaming, thinking of him – when his text alert chimed.

 

**From: The Husband**

**Are you still up?**

 

Kurt picked up his phone with an easy smile and called him.

 

"Hey, honey," he said after Blaine answered. "Whatcha need?"

 

"I was just calling to say goodnight." It could've been the connection, but Kurt could have sworn that Blaine sounded a little shy.

 

"That's sweet of you."

 

"What're you doing?" Blaine asked.

 

"Oh, nothing much – just hanging out with Romeo and working on some sketches," Kurt said, looking at what he'd drawn and thinking of a tiny Blaine dressed in his pieces, his curls long and wild. "Romeo says hi, don't you buddy?" He scratched the dog behind his ears, and Romeo let out a contented sigh.

 

"Tell him I miss him."

 

"Mmm, he misses you too. What're _you_ doing?"

 

"Honestly? Thinking about you," Blaine said, and yeah, he _definitely_ sounded shy. _Ohhhh_ , Blaine could be adorable when he tried.

 

"Good things, I hope."

 

"Good things," Blaine agreed. "Also, I was wondering …"

 

"Yes?" Kurt gently prodded when he trailed off.

 

"What are you doing Friday evening? After our appointment?"

 

Kurt had to think for a moment, and then he thought that it was _nice_ that he had to stop and think, that he was getting enough of his life back that he might actually have plans on a Friday. But not _this_ Friday.

 

"Nothing I'm aware of."

 

"Do you want to be doing something? Possibly with me?"

 

 _Friday night …_ "This is more than coffee, isn't it?"

 

He could hear the hesitance in Blaine's voice. "Well … that's what I was planning, but if you don't want that …"

 

"Why don't you ask me again?" Kurt suggested, twirling his finger around the string on his sweatshirt. "And properly, this time. You know I like to be wooed."

 

He knew Blaine was smiling. "Alright, fine. Ask Kurt out, take two … Kurt, are you free on Friday night?"

 

"Depends on why you're asking," Kurt said playfully.

 

"Would you care to join me for dinner? At Del Posto?"

 

Kurt's eyes widened and his hand dropped to the bed. "Oh my god, _please_ tell me you already have reservations."

 

Blaine chuckled. "Apparently the chef likes my books. We're in if you're in."

 

"Oh, I'm _so_ in."

 

"Awesome." Kurt could feel the rays of light beaming off of Blaine's smile through the phone. "I'll pick you up at three-thirty for our appointment, then?"

 

"Yes," Kurt said. "Blaine?"

 

"Mmm-hmm?"

 

"I can't wait."

 

* * *

 

**Thursday, October 12 th, 2023**

Kurt was bent over his table, carefully cutting a piece of silk that would eventually become an ascot, when Marc leaned over his shoulder.

 

"It's out," he murmured, his breath tickling Kurt's ear. "Jackie's making the announcement today after lunch. You should talk to Blaine – I want to officially offer you the position on Monday."

 

Kurt laid his scissors down, turned on his stool. "But I've only been back four days –"

 

"Stop," Marc said softly, holding a hand up. "I've made my decision, unless you're refusing."

 

"No, but –"

 

"Then stop," he smiled. "And talk to your husband. I want his blessing before we go through with this."

 

* * *

 

**Friday, October 13 th, 2023**

"So, I have an announcement to make," Kurt said, crossing his legs primly as he settled onto the couch in Dr. Jacobson's office with Blaine.

 

Blaine cocked his head a little as his heart surged with hope. "What is it, Kurt?" he asked, trying to temper his voice.

 

"When I went back to work on Monday, I had a little meeting with Marc."

 

Blaine managed to keep his face even, not showing the disappointment that Kurt's announcement had nothing to do with him. "Did you show him your sketches?"

 

"I did," Kurt said, pulling his sketchbook out and handing it to Dr. Jacobson. "Those are top-secret – I know you have privacy laws and everything, but _seriously_ , don't mention them to anyone," he told her.

 

"Of course not," she said, flipping through the pages. "Kurt – these are wonderful!"

 

"That's what I told him," Blaine said, his chest swelling a little with pride. "So what'd Marc say?"

 

"Well, he loved them. And it just so happens that some things are shifting in the label's hierarchy …" Kurt said, a grin spreading across his face as he spoke.

 

"What exactly does that mean?" Blaine asked.

 

Kurt beamed and grabbed Blaine's hand. "The creative director over Little Marc Jacobs is leaving in three weeks, and Marc wants me to step into her position!" he exclaimed.

 

"Oh my god," Blaine breathed. "Oh my _god_ , Kurt –" He pitched forward, pulling Kurt into a tight hug on the couch. "Creative director?" He pulled back, grasping Kurt's shoulders, then tugged him into another hug. "Oh my god, I'm so proud of you, _creative director –_ "

 

"So … not to ruin your celebration, but what exactly does _that_ mean?" Dr. Jacobson asked, gesturing to her jeans and crocheted purple poncho sweater. "I'm sure you haven't noticed, but I'm not exactly operating at the height of fashion, here…"

 

"Creative director is the highest position you can hold within a label without actually owning the name," Kurt said, squeezing Blaine's hand tight, beaming so hard his eyes were crinkled almost-shut. "I'll be in charge of designing all the looks, with help and inspiration from the designers working under me, and I'll hold a much more managerial position than I did before. It also comes with a pretty hefty raise."

 

"Well that sounds wonderful!" Dr. Jacobson said. "Will it be more hours?"

 

"I think it might be, but it'll be different – the kids' line doesn't do Fashion Week, so I won't be travelling as much. It'll be much more locally-based."

 

Blaine sat back on the couch, contemplating what that might mean. No Fashion Week stress, no more weeks without his husband. Kurt would be home with him – or, no, actually he wouldn't. Because Blaine wasn't home yet.

 

"Blaine?" Dr. Jacobson asked. "How are you feeling about this?"

 

Blaine smiled. "Good. I feel really good …" he paused, turning to Kurt. "…as long as you do, too. Will it make you happy?"

 

Kurt beamed at him. "I think so."

 

"Good. Then I'm all for it."

 

"Well, congratulations to you both, then," Dr. Jacobson smiled. "How are things going with the two of you?"

 

" _Well_ ," Kurt drawled, tracing patterns on the back of Blaine's hand with his forefinger. There was a demure look in his eyes that made something inside Blaine's chest stir. "Somebody asked me out on a _very_ nice date tonight …"

 

* * *

 

Kurt was swinging his and Blaine's clasped hands in between them as they walked down the sidewalk in the East Village. "Hey," he said, "thanks for being so supportive today. I – I'm really feeling good about us right now."

 

Blaine smiled softly. "You're welcome. And I am, too."

 

"I'm looking forward to our date tonight." Kurt's cheeks were pink and a bashful smile softened his face.

 

"Me too," Blaine said, nudging Kurt's shoulder with his own as they came to the street where they had to part ways. Blaine had a sudden, almost panicked feeling as he realized he needed to let go of Kurt's hand. He didn't want to. "Kurt …"

 

"Honey?"

 

"I know you need to go, I'm sorry, I just – I'm trying really hard. I just want you to know that."

 

"I know," Kurt said. "And I really, really appreciate that."

 

"This, tonight?" Blaine said. "It's because I love you so much, and I want to make you happy. I want _us_ to be happy again."

 

Kurt smiled tenderly, cupping Blaine's cheek in his hand. "I know you do. So do I."

 

"Okay," Blaine sighed, finally letting go of Kurt's hand. "I'll pick you up at seven?"

 

Kurt pressed a soft, sweet kiss on Blaine's lips before standing back and smiling at him. "Sounds perfect."

 

* * *

 

Kurt was closing the kitchen utensil drawer on a strategically-placed bottle of lube when he heard Blaine knock on the door.

 

"Come on in!" he called, doing a once-over of the candles he'd laid out on the dining room table in a long, straight line, making sure the lighter was handy. When he turned around, Blaine was standing in the doorway in a deliciously-fitted steel blue suit with a hint of sheen to it, holding a huge bouquet of red and yellow roses.

 

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, leaving the lighter on the table and striding forward to take his roses. "Our flowers. They're gorgeous."

 

Blaine kissed him gently. "So are you," he said, their foreheads pressed together.

 

 _Oh, I want you in my bed tonight_. "Thank you," Kurt said, running the fingers of his free hand down Blaine's face. "I like your suit."

 

"Oh yeah?" Blaine asked, relinquishing his grip on the back of Kurt's neck to turn slowly in a circle in front of him, slowing down even more when his ass was facing Kurt. "I hoped you might. I snuck in and stole it out of the closet while you were at work yesterday."

 

Kurt laughed and rolled his eyes, smacking Blaine's ass playfully. He saw Blaine's eyes dart around the room as he turned back around, catching sight of the candles and lighter on the table. Something that looked like hope shone in Blaine's eyes.

 

"Let me just get these in a vase and I'll be ready to go," Kurt said, scurrying back around to the kitchen to open the bottom cabinet. He pulled out a flared glass vase and stood at the sink, adding a few inches of water to the bottom.  
  
"Mmm, I'm very busy and important, you know," Blaine teased as he began to trim the stems. "You shouldn't keep me waiting."

 

"Busy and important, huh? Busy with what?"

 

He felt Blaine's arms snake around his waist and tug him close. "Wooing you."

 

* * *

 

"Blaine, this is so good I might _die_ ," Kurt said, grinning wildly as he sipped on his wine and placed a piece of pumpkin cappellacci in his mouth, moaning softly as he chewed. "I can't believe you got us in on such short notice."

 

Blaine shrugged, smiling. "I just wanted to do something special for you. I really miss you, Kurt. _Really_. I think Nick is totally sick of hearing me whine about it, actually."

 

"I know," Kurt sighed, "I miss you, too." He reached across the table and grasped Blaine's hand in his. "Thank you for this."

 

Blaine brought Kurt's fingers to his lips, kissing them gently. "You're welcome." He paused. "I don't think you'll ever know how glad I am to see you eating again," he said, his voice a little thick.

 

Kurt smiled. "I don't know about that. You're probably _almost_ as glad as I am. I missed food."

 

"Well, it looks good on you. You look fantastic tonight." Kurt blushed deeply. "You do!" Blaine insisted.

 

"Well …" Kurt paused, leaning over the table conspiratorially. "I've started yoga again. I looked like shit before my muscle tone started to come back."

 

"Mmm," Blaine hummed. "Are you just as bendy as you always were?"

 

"Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed, trying to keep his voice down as the other patrons cast annoyed glances at him. "What kind of a question is that?"

 

Blaine shrugged, a twinkle in his eye and his lips trying to quirk up into a smile. "Just wondering."

 

* * *

 

"Oh my god, Kurt, are you reading this?" Blaine asked, holding a dessert menu in front of him. "Chocolate ricotta tortino, toasted pistachios, and extra-virgin olive oil gelato. Limone cremoso, peach marmelletto, and polenta crocantte. Butterscotch semifreddo, melon agrumata, & crumbled sss- sbri- sbr-something? I don't know what all of that even means, but _god_ it sounds amazing," Blaine groaned.

 

Kurt took another sip of wine, trying not to focus on the blood heading from his head southward at the noise Blaine just made. He went to set his glass down, then thought better of it and took another, larger sip for good measure.

 

"Do you want to split one?" he asked, nodding to the menu. "Or do you want your own?"

 

"Let's get _two_ and split them," Blaine said, grinning back.

 

"Oh, you _are_ sinful." Kurt braced a hand on his chair next to his thigh, trying to steady himself from the sudden, heady feeling that was making him a little dizzy. Maybe that had been a bigger swallow of wine than he'd thought … "But I might be persuaded."

 

Several minutes later, the waiter brought two plates of post-dinner decadence and two glasses of dessert wine and left them to indulge in private. Blaine was hovering a spoon near Kurt's lips and Kurt found himself parting them, letting the cool metal slip inside as his eyes shut. He closed his mouth around it, moaning involuntarily as the cold butterscotch custard slid off and began to melt on his tongue. Blaine withdrew the spoon ever so slowly, and when Kurt opened his eyes again, Blaine's pupils were large, black full moons in his honey-colored eyes.

 

" _Jesus_ ," Blaine whispered.

 

Kurt grinned. "Why don't we save the confession until _after_ we're done sinning with the dessert, honey. It's your turn." He gathered a little spoonful of the chocolate ricotta tortino, whatever that happened to be, along with a bit of olive oil gelato, and nudged Blaine's lips open. The sound that came from Blaine's throat as he tasted it was nearly orgasmic, and Kurt felt his own pupils dilate a bit. He leaned forward again, grateful that the table was small. "We're gonna need to eat this dessert a little faster, because I _really_ need to take you home with me."

 

Blaine's eyes popped open. "Kurt –" he said, hesitating a little. "I'm sorry, but … I need to know what that means. I –"

 

"It means," Kurt said, sliding his foot up Blaine's ankle, making him shudder, "exactly what you think it does. I _miss_ you. So let's hurry and eat our dessert, mkay?"

 

Blaine's eyes widened even more, and he scooped up a big spoonful of the butterscotch semifreddo and placed it in his mouth determinedly. The determination didn't last very long, however, as he seemed to melt under the flavors. Kurt understood completely. "Good, isn't it?" he said with a smile as Blaine's eyes rolled back in his head.

 

"Mmm-hmm," Blaine said, nodding as he swallowed, then grinned darkly. "But not _nearly_ as good as you're gonna be later."

 

* * *

 

"So, just out of curiosity – _mmmm,_ Kurt – when'd you decide this was o _hhhhh_ -kay?" Blaine asked, sighing and stuttering as Kurt pressed him up against the elevator wall.

 

"Gradual process," Kurt said in between kisses, licking over Blaine's neck. "God, I'm glad you don't have an office job where I have to worry about leaving hickeys."

 

Blaine laughed, stretching his neck even further. Kurt could give him all the hickeys his heart desired – being marked wasn't something Blaine was going to complain about. "I missed you," he whispered, winding his fingers in Kurt's hair. "I missed you, missed you – god, Kurt, your _mouth_ –" He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall, when –

 

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Marshall!" Kurt squeaked.

 

Blaine's eyes popped open just in time to see his neighbor grinning slyly as the elevator doors closed behind her back.

 

"Fun night out, boys?"

 

"Uhhh –" Blaine stammered, praying that she wouldn't notice the obvious tenting in his suit pants.

 

"Yes!" Kurt exclaimed, his voice a little breathy as well. "Blaine took me to Del Posto!"

 

"Mmm," she said knowingly as the elevator stopped at their floor. "Well, it's good to see you again, Blaine. Seems like it's been a while. You have a lovely evening." She patted Blaine's arm as he walked off the elevator, winking at him.

 

"Oh my _god_ ," he said, burying his face in his hands once the doors blessedly closed in front of her. "How much did she see?"

 

"Oh, she saw plenty," Kurt said, taking his hand and pulling him toward their door. "But I don't think she really seemed to mind, which …"

 

"Which is disturbing on about ten levels, and which I am not going to think too hard about, because there are other things I'd much rather be doing," Blaine finished for him, jiggling his key in the lock. "Like you."

 

"Let's see what we can do about that," Kurt said, his voice low in his throat as he removed Blaine's hand from the door handle and opened it himself. He let Blaine go ahead of him, kicking the door shut behind him as he gently grasped Blaine's shoulders and walked him backward through the entryway and pressed him against the built-in bookcases.

 

Kurt's mouth was warm and wet, sucking and nipping at his neck. Blaine groaned as Kurt's fingers deftly untied his tie, flinging it from Blaine's neck onto the table, and began unbuttoning his shirt buttons, slowly peeling his collar back and making a clear path of skin to follow. Blaine sighed, gripping the ledge of the bookcase with both hands as Kurt claimed his collarbones and sternum. He'd been waiting a long time for this.

 

He was already painfully hard, his cock straining against the fly of his suit pants. He realized that no matter how much masturbating he'd done in the last two days while he tried to prepare for this night on the off-chance that Kurt _would_ want to go farther than he had, nothing could've prepared him for the overwhelming feeling of Kurt surrounding him. It had been so long, and Kurt was _so_ good, and – "Oh, Kurt, Kurt, hang on –"

 

His lack of stamina in that moment was embarrassing. Kurt hadn't even touched his cock, and he was about to pulse out an orgasm before he even got his pants off. But it had been so long, and he wanted it so bad …

 

"We need to get off. Now," Kurt said, so sure, and then Blaine was alone with a bruised neck and a too-hard dick while Kurt inexplicably went into the kitchen.

 

Seconds later he was back, a bottle of lube in his hand. "Kurt –" Blaine said, squinting at it in the dark condo. "The lube was in the _kitchen_? You planned this?"

 

" _Shhh_ ," Kurt whispered, grinning as he pressed against Blaine in an open-mouthed kiss. "I knew the second you called and asked me out. I miss you, too, you know. _I like my body when it is with your body_ ," he recited, lining up their erections, and Blaine's brain proceeded to short-circuit.

 

"Off," he ordered, undoing Kurt's belt and button and fly and tugging his pants and underwear down to his hips. " _Kurt_ –"

 

Kurt's hands were just as fast, and both their pants and briefs were pooled at their ankles in seconds. But Blaine didn't have time to think about looking stupid, his shoes and socks still on, even his jacket for that matter, because Kurt squirted a small dollop of lube in his palm and wrapped his hand around both of them together.

 

" _Fuck_ ," Blaine grunted, grabbing hold of Kurt's shoulders and immediately thrusting up. "Oh god – oh _god_ –" He tried to make quick work of Kurt's own buttons, which he'd been too preoccupied to undo, but his body had other plans and his hands ended up on Kurt's hips.

 

"Oh my _god_ ," Kurt panted, his head dropping onto Blaine's shoulder as his thrusts moved in somewhat-coordinated synchrony with Blaine's. "Oh, you feel so good, oh _god_ –"

 

"This – _shit_ – is gonna be path- _uhhhhhh_ – pathetically short," Blaine panted.

 

"'S ok. We've got all night."

 

Blaine took one hand from Kurt's hip and placed it atop Kurt's hand, squeezing more pressure as he started to see spots. Kurt gasped, twisting his hips and thrusting them up hard into their hands, rubbing deliciously against Blaine's cock. "God, yes," he grunted, squeezing even tighter, thrusting faster himself. "Oh, fuck –" He threw his head back, closing his eyes, and grasped a big handful of Kurt's ass, yanking him closer.

 

" _Blaine_ – oh _god_ –"

 

And in a matter of a few minutes, their rhythm was completely gone. They were moaning against each other, sweat pooling under arms and on foreheads and under suit jackets, and neither of them could bring themselves to care. Blaine's hips were moving like pistons, pumping forward-back, forward-back. There would be a nice purple bruise on the back of his hip where he kept running it into the bookshelf ledge, but there wasn't any stopping – the pleasure was overwhelming; it kept peaking higher and higher; if there was a meter it would've been broken.

 

He chanted Kurt's name as Kurt sank his teeth lightly into Blaine's shoulder and let out a muffled shout, and suddenly everything was wet, wet, wet and warm and Kurt was shaking and Blaine's hips were _flying_.

 

Blaine was strung tight, his entire body pulled taut like a string drawn too-far back on a bow, gasping into Kurt's suit jacket and thrusting into his own hand, and then a shudder and release and he was pulsing, even the very core of him, and he and Kurt grasped for each other and slid to the floor in a heap of come and lube and sweat and tangled pants.

 

* * *

 

It was a while before Blaine came back to himself, realized that there was come sticking the tail of his shirt to his pubic hair, and damn, that was going to be a bitch to get off. He grunted and shifted – Kurt's elbow was poking into his ribs. Kurt let his head roll back, looked up at Blaine with big oceans of eyes, his shirt open and his perfect chest with its perfect downy hair on display, and Blaine was _so_ in love. How could he have ever walked out on _this_?

 

"How could I have ever walked out on you?" he murmured aloud, but Kurt grinned and put his forefinger over his mouth.

 

" _Shhhh_ , we're not talking about that," he said.

 

"Our floors are hard." Blaine grunted and shifted again.

 

"Our bed is soft," Kurt said, "and I've kind of wanted to have you in it all night. What say you?"

 

"I say we go thither."

 

Kurt burst into giggles. "God, I love you."

 

Blaine worried his face might break in half with the force of his smile. "I love you, too," he said, tucking his head down and kissing Kurt sweetly on the tip of his nose. Blaine loved Kurt's nose. Blaine loved _all_ parts of Kurt – his hair follicles and his toenails and his –

 

"Blaine? Bed?"

 

"Bed!" Blaine sang happily, then groaned as he tried to pull himself upright, grabbing onto the bookcase, only for his hand to slip off again. "Oh. There's lube on here. Or come. Or a combination of the two."

 

Kurt, apparently very agile from his yoga (and Blaine couldn't _wait_ to test his limits there), hopped up and took a look at the bookcase. "Nothing that won't come off in the morning," he decided, shucking his shoes and pants and briefs, and offered Blaine a hand. "Oh, honey," he said as Blaine got to his feet, tripping over his pants as he went, "your _hip_."

 

Blaine craned his neck to see, and sure enough, a purple bruise was already blooming right on the bone. "I guess you'll just have to kiss it better."

 

"Mmm, that looks like it might take a lot of kisses."

 

"Well you'd better get to it then, hadn't you?"

 

They stumbled into the bedroom, unwilling to let go of each other even to get through the door, then into the bathroom to rid themselves of the rest of their offending and sticky clothing. Blaine ran water over the tail of his shirt and carefully peeled it off while Kurt kept giggling behind him. Once they were properly naked, Kurt grabbed his hand, dragged him back into the bedroom, and they collapsed on the bed.

 

"Hey," Blaine said, popping his head up to look around. "Where's Romeo?"

 

Kurt grinned darkly. "Rachel's puppy-sitting tonight."

 

"You think of everything, don't you?"

 

"Yep," Kurt said, rolling over to open a drawer.

 

Blaine peered over Kurt's shoulder. "Oh my god, you got the good stuff."

 

"If by 'good stuff,' you mean silicone-based, then yes, I did."

 

"And whatever could we do with that?" Blaine asked, grinning.

 

"Oh, I can think of lots of things. Any requests?"

 

An idea slowly began to form in Blaine's mind, quickly gaining shape and color and image and _oh_ , that was a nice image; he wanted more of that image. He wanted to see that image in their mirror. "Um, actually …"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"I want you to fuck me. So that I can see. And I – I kind of want you to wear the butt-plug. And then _I_ want to fuck _you_." He paused. "Um … if that's okay. I know it's kind of a big leap, going from nothing to getting out the box, but …"

 

Kurt's eyes grew big as dinner plates, and it seemed that all he could do was nod, a little erratically.

 

"Okay, right," Blaine said, a little unsure of what to do now. But Kurt was way ahead of him, diving over the side of the bed, his pretty, pale ass sloping beautifully as he hung halfway upside-down.

 

"Got it!" he said, pulling himself back up.

 

Blaine watched, his mouth watering a little as Kurt dug through and found the bright cherry red butt-plug. He took the box from Kurt's hands and set it back on the ground, then grabbed Kurt up in a strong hug, lowering him back down to the bed. "Are you sure this is okay?"

 

"I don't have words for how much I've missed you, Blaine. Yes, I'm sure," Kurt whispered. "If you told me you wanted to move to the desert right now I might even do that, too. A plug is nothing."

 

Blaine sank his mouth down over Kurt's neck again, pulling a little whimpery noise from his throat.

 

"Tell me it's _nothing_ when I get it inside," Blaine murmured, teasing his fingers around the inside of Kurt's thighs, running them gently over his balls. "God, I can't wait to watch you fuck me …"

 

" _Blaine_ –"

 

" _Shhhh_ ," Blaine whispered, slicking his fingers. He lowered his head to Kurt's chest to lave at a nipple as he spread Kurt's legs apart with his elbow, reaching down and back to find Kurt's hole. Blaine rubbed over it with the tip of a finger and Kurt clenched under his touch, gasping and arching his back. He teased at it like that for several minutes, long enough for Kurt's hands to grasp at the sheets, his arms reaching out to the sides. Finally, when Kurt was on the verge of begging, Blaine slipped his finger inside.

 

He'd almost forgotten how silky Kurt felt on the inside. Kurt felt so _good_ , and he was just a finger in – he couldn't wait to sink the plug into his hole, to sheath his cock with Kurt's ass.

 

"Blaine …" Kurt moaned softly, slowly riding his finger.

 

"Mmm-hmm?"

 

"I'm so sorry we fought for so long." Kurt gasped as he rolled his hips in one particular direction, and Blaine tried to mimic the angle. "I – it was never you – god, my only _good_ thing was you …"

 

" _Shhh_ ," Blaine whispered, pressing wet, open kisses to Kurt's chest.

 

"Blaine – oh, god, more please – Blaine, we can't – you're everything –" Kurt babbled as Blaine added the tip of a second finger, letting Kurt get used to the stretch. Unless there was a lot of dildo use that Kurt had kept a secret, it had been a long time since he'd been filled up like he was about to be.

 

"I know, baby," Blaine murmured into his skin, slowly beginning to move, smiling to himself when Kurt moaned loudly as he sank deeper. "I love you. I love you so much, I swear, I'll never leave you again."

 

Kurt was clinging to him with both arms now, one around his neck, holding onto his back, and the other his shoulder. "God, _Blaine_ , _ohhhh_ ," he breathed as Blaine brushed playfully, torturously over his prostate, then backed up, moving his fingers around for the maximum stretch. "Oh, you feel so good …"

 

He slid his fingers in and out, slowly, carefully, letting Kurt rock harder down onto them when he wanted – and _oh,_ apparently he _did_ want. Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand, holding it still as he fucked himself harder, up and down on his fingers.

 

"You still with me?" Blaine asked.

 

"Need to feel you, need to _feel_ ," Kurt panted, his hips still rocking rhythmically.

 

"I swear, you'll be so full in a minute. Just be a little patient, baby."

 

Kurt's eyes slid open. "Add another?"

 

Blaine nodded, slipping in a third finger slowly, carefully beside the other two. Kurt groaned loudly, his cock twitching back to life, and _god_ Blaine couldn't wait until the tables turned, and he was fucking himself on _Kurt's_ fingers.

 

"I wish you could see yourself right now," Blaine whispered, gazing in awe at his husband, his legs asunder, cheeks rosy pink, hair unkempt. "I just – it doesn't make _sense_ , how sexy you are. You're defying the laws of nature right now."

 

Kurt laughed, his chest rapidly rising and falling. "I don't know about that – but I _feel_ kind of sexy."

 

Blaine bit back his _own_ groan at Kurt's words. "You should," he growled into Kurt's ear, easing all three fingers back and forth in Kurt's ass, "because I could eat you with a fucking _spoon_ …"

 

Kurt sighed and arched his back again, like a cat stretching to be petted, and Blaine's fingers sank deeper. "Mmm, put it in," Kurt said, swiveling his hips. "Wanna fuck you."

 

"God, yes," Blaine said, quickly finding the plug and carefully withdrawing his fingers, kissing Kurt through the gasp he let out when he was empty again, clenching around nothing. "Here baby, we're almost there …" He squirted more lube on the toy, made sure Kurt was still nice and wet, and lined the round, blunt tip up with Kurt's hole. It slipped in effortlessly until the widest part, and as Blaine eased it inside Kurt moaned even louder than before.

 

" _Fuck_ ," he gasped, "it's right – god, it's sitting on –"

 

"Do you need to take it out?" Blaine asked.

 

"No, but – _ohhhh, fuck_ – I just – _shit_ – I have to get used to it. I, um. It's a good thing we got off once already."

 

Blaine grinned. "Brilliant plan on our parts."

 

"Yes, multiple orgasms. Definitely brilliant," Kurt replied, wiggling his ass a little. "Um, can you –"

 

"Oh! Right. My turn," Blaine said, dropping to his back to switch places with Kurt when he found himself caught in a kiss he felt in the marrow of his bones. Kurt was licking into him, not just with his tongue, but it felt like with his soul as well, like he was trying to reach in and touch the deepest parts of him, pull them to the surface. "Oh, _Kurt_ ," he sighed when Kurt pulled back, a dreamy look in his eyes.

 

Kurt kept kissing him as his fingers slipped inside of Blaine, stretching out what had been closed tight for so long, and it was as if Kurt moving in him unhinged something that had been clamped shut. Blaine clung to the sheets, trying to hold himself together. There were shocks of pleasure firing all over him and his toes were curling at the air, his calves threatening to cramp up as Kurt's fingers twisted inside him.

 

"Stay with me," Kurt said, his breath ragged. Blaine knew that every time he moved, the plug was rubbing up against his prostate. A drop of precome had already leaked out onto Blaine's stomach, had been swiped up by Blaine's finger and licked off with a loud moan.

 

"I'm here, baby," Blaine murmured, rolling his hips up and down Kurt's fingers. "But – I want – god, I want you _buried_ –"

 

It didn't take much convincing, just those few little words and Kurt's fingers were pulling out. Blaine rolled over onto his hands and knees, positioned so that when they looked sideways, they could see themselves in the mirror on their dresser, red-faced and wanton. He spread his knees wide, and felt the silky, blunt head of Kurt's cock pressing at his entrance. They both groaned as the head easily slipped inside, as Kurt kept pushing with just enough pressure until he bottomed out, his balls grazing Blaine's ass.

 

"Oh, my _fuck_ ," Kurt jabbered, rocking his hips in a wide circle. "Oh my – Blaine, you feel, oh god –"

 

As Kurt thrust into him, it was like something inside Blaine began to mend. He hadn't felt that whole in a very long time. He cried out when Kurt thrust forward then pulled immediately back, his hips snapping back toward the plug, trying to find the angle again, and oh, this _was_ a good idea. And then he remembered that he could look.

 

Kurt's face was twisted in pleasure, his hips rocking shallowly in and out, toward Blaine's prostate and then toward the plug. Blaine could just make out the red outline buried in Kurt's ass and _oh_ he was a genius. This, Kurt falling apart inside him, was one of the hottest things he'd ever witnessed.

 

"It's like I didn't even come before!" Kurt said, panting as he started thrusting harder, his balls now swinging, smacking against the curve of Blaine's ass. " _God_ , I just – _Blaine_ – you're so fucking tight –"

 

"Fuck me," Blaine heard himself say, _saw_ himself say in the mirror. It didn't even look like him, his head thrown back and his mouth ajar. "Kurt, fuck me, _hard_ , I need to feel it tomorrow –"

 

He needed to know that this was real, that it had happened, that it wasn't just some fantasy he'd dreamed up. He wanted to feel Kurt's cock in his ass for a _week_ , wanted to see their reflections from the mirror, wanted to be able to conjure their faces. And quite the faces they were making, both of them. He was slack-jawed, his lips parted in pleasure, and Kurt's eyes were squeezed shut, his whole face drawn up tight with the tension.

 

"Look in the mirror, baby," Blaine instructed, wanting Kurt to be privy to it as well. "Watch what you're doing to me …"

 

Kurt's eyes opened in the mirror. " _Shit_ , we look like pornstars."

 

"So _fuck me like one_."

 

Blaine half expected a snarky comment, but instead he felt Kurt's legs start to shake as he began to slam into Blaine, deep and hard, inciting grunts and groans and growls and _god_ he felt like Kurt was taking him apart from the inside out.

 

"Fuck, Blaine –"

 

"Just like that," Blaine moaned, "like that, that's perfect, right _there_ –"

 

"Blaine, _god_ , I'm so close already … This fucking butt-plu _uuuuuu –_ " Kurt cut himself off, his hips wheeling in directions that Blaine didn't even know they could go, and yeah, Kurt would probably be feeling it tomorrow too.

 

"You can come if you need to, Kurt," Blaine said, watching his own cock get wet at the tip as Kurt's face contorted, fucking into him fast and hard. "You can come – god, _please_ come, fill me up with you, oh _god_ –"

 

" _Blaine_ ," Kurt gasped, his cock snapping so deep that Blaine jolted. " _Fuck, fuck fuu-huh-huh-huuuuuck_ ," he chanted with each final thrust, pulsing inside of Blaine and falling forward onto Blaine's back, thrusting shallowly. Blaine wished as he watched Kurt in the mirror that he'd set up some sort of video camera.

 

" _Oh my god_ ," Kurt gasped, still draped over Blaine's back. "Oh my god … the plug, can you get it out?"

 

"Of course," Blaine said, gasping a little as Kurt pulled out of him, spilling lube and come all over their sheets. "Turn over." Kurt did, breathing hard, and Blaine eased the toy out of Kurt's ass as gently as he could manage.

 

"Thanks," Kurt breathed, flopping onto the bed on his stomach. "It was just – a little over-stimulating –"

 

"Hey." Blaine scooted up in the bed, running his fingers through Kurt's hair while he tried to ignore his own leaking cock. "If you're too sensitive for me to –"

 

"No, no, I want you to," Kurt said, smiling a little shyly, and _god_ it was the cutest thing Blaine had ever seen. "I just – the plug was _right_ on my prostate, and –"

 

"Okay," Blaine said, grabbing the bottle of lube. "I'll try to start slow."

 

Kurt craned his neck to look back at Blaine. "You really don't have to."

 

Blaine blinked at him. "Um. Okay." He slicked up his cock, taking deep breaths and desperately trying not to come from his own hand, then looked down to see Kurt reaching back, pulling himself apart for Blaine. " _Jesus,_ Kurt …"

 

"I love you," Kurt said with an easy grin, his head turned to the side on his pillow so he could see better.

 

"Love you, too," Blaine said, groaning loudly as he finally pressed into Kurt's hole, still open and ready for him. "Oh, _Kurt_ , _god_ –" His hips took on a mind of their own, cranking up the speed almost instantaneously, and he was glad that Kurt had gotten fully stretched out before he started. Blaine felt like he was going to explode, like his cock was holding all the feelings in his body, and while it wasn't like he was poorly endowed, it just wasn't big enough for all of them, and _oh god_ Kurt felt like heaven inside, and – "I'm never leaving you," Blaine said, his brain whirring even faster than his hips, "never, ever, ever again, how I could've done that, _fuck,_ oh _Kurt, oh god I'm so cloooose_ …"

 

"Come, honey." Kurt's voice was soft, sleepy underneath him, but Blaine managed to wrench his eyes open long enough to see that Kurt's face looked happy and serene. "Come for me – you made me come so hard – it's your turn, come on …"

 

"Kurt, love you, love you, lo-uh- _uh-uh-uh –_ " His brain turned off and his body took over, grunts coming from his throat as he plunged in-in-into Kurt's perfect ass. He was right on the edge. Everything felt white-hot, every nerve buzzed with _want_ and _need_ and oh god, he was going to die before he came. He realized he was moaning, loudly. Kurt was saying something that he couldn't quite register – all he could feel or focus on was relieving the _ohgodneedtocomenow_ sensation that his cock, his entire body was screaming with.

 

He grasped at the headboard, threaded his other arm under Kurt's pelvis, Kurt's cock mostly soft against his belly, and drove in twice, deep and hard. And _finally_ relief – he was coming again, his body vibrating as he shot inside of Kurt, making everything wetter, slipperier. Someone was shouting and he realized after a moment that it was him, and that Kurt was making the most perfectly pleased noises underneath him. The aftershocks were still shaking him as he slowly eased out and his whole body shuddered and oh _god_ when did he get so _tired_?

 

"Oh my god," he said, flopping his body down next to Kurt's. "Oh my god, Kurt, oh my _god_." He turned on his side, brushing Kurt's hair out of his eyes where it had flopped down on his forehead. "Was that – was that okay?" he panted. "I didn't hurt you, there at the end?"

 

"Oh, honey, no," Kurt said thickly, and Blaine pulled him forward, wrapping him in a tight embrace, jizz and lube be damned.

 

"I missed you so much." Kurt's voice was watery, threatening tears, and Blaine would _not_ make him cry anymore, would never make him cry _again,_ so he kissed and kissed and kissed him, kissed his eyes and his nose and his ears and his chest.

 

"I missed you too. Never again," Blaine promised. "Never, ever, ever again, I love you so much. Never again."

 

"Do you _swear it_?" Kurt asked, suddenly fierce.

 

"I swear," Blaine promised solemnly, then kissed him back into sleepy bliss, lips everywhere, whispering his love into Kurt's skin. "I love you. I'm trying, and I love you, and – I love you, Kurt."

 

"I love you, too."

 

"I missed our bed."

 

Kurt smiled sadly. "I missed you _in_ our bed."

 

"I'm in it now," Blaine whispered, pulling Kurt closer to him, tucking Kurt's head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Kurt. I'm _so_ sorry, I love you – I swear, I _swear_ I'll never leave you again, I'll take the rest of my life to make you believe it if I need to …"

 

Kurt kissed him gently. "I don't think it'll take quite that long."

 

He squeezed around Kurt's waist, shifting so they were comfortable but still tangled together. Kurt had drifted off, was making tiny little snoring sounds, and Blaine was headed that way when he remembered, his stomach sinking a little.

 

He tried to get out of Kurt's arms without him waking up, but Kurt stirred under him. "Blaine? What's wrong, honey?"

 

" _Shhh_ , go back to sleep," Blaine whispered, slipping out of the soft sheets.

 

"No, what is it?" Kurt asked, sitting up. "Are you okay?"

 

Blaine sighed. "I'm fine. I just – my pill. I have to take it before bed."

 

"Your – _oh_ ," Kurt said, recognition dawning in his eyes.

 

"Kurt, I'm sorry," Blaine said, feeling guilty for waking Kurt, angry that a stupid pill was standing in the way of his sleep and cuddle time with Kurt.

 

"Don't be sorry. It's fine. You take your pill, we'll clean up, then back to cuddles. Simple, right?"

 

Blaine smiled wanly. "Right," he said, his bare feet smacking the floor as he walked back into the dining room to find his pants.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which all is right in the world again.

**Chapter 30**

**Saturday, October 14, 2023**

Kurt awoke to a mouth on his cock.

 

Actually, his own groan was what woke him up from a weird dream in which Rachel was pregnant with Marc Jacobs' baby and Kurt was assigned to design the nursery. He much preferred being awake.

 

"Mmm," he sighed, petting what looked like the shoulder of the lump under the covers. "Morning."

 

A lewd pop, and moments later Blaine's head appeared from underneath the sheet. "Morning," he smiled.

 

"That's quite a way to wake a guy up, you know."

 

Blaine's eyes twinkled mischievously. "You've never complained about it before."

 

"That's true. Come here," he said, reaching up to grab around Blaine's neck and rolling them to their sides. "It's the best thing, waking up with you in bed with me."

 

"Mmm, yes," Blaine agreed, wrapping himself around Kurt's body. It was Kurt's favorite place to be, enveloped in a cocoon of his husband.

 

There really wasn't a need for words after that. Kurt's mouth and Blaine's mouth were occupied with things other than speaking, like kissing each other's favorite spots, the dip in Blaine's throat just below his Adam's apple, Kurt's belly-button, the inside of Blaine's ankle, the backs of Kurt's knees. They covered each other in kisses, writing love on each other's bodies with their lips, tracing over the bite-marks and the large bruise on Blaine's hip with tender care.

 

Kurt was a little surprised at how safe he felt, open and naked with Blaine, though he guessed he shouldn't have been. His trust had been growing steadily with Blaine's efforts, and it was certainly nice to be 'wooed', as Blaine had put it the night before. Blaine was good at wooing, no matter how much he protested that he wasn't. But right then, _anything_ might've felt like wooing to Kurt. The fact that Blaine had one of Kurt's toes sucked into his mouth even felt like wooing, and _Jesus,_ something like that shouldn't make all the blood rush to his cock, but between morning wood and a half-finished blowjob, he really didn't think he could be expected to help it.

 

It was a magnificent way to engage in foreplay, just kissing and touching, forgoing each other's cocks for now, wanting to spend time on the rest of their bodies. Like Blaine's hands. Kurt picked one of them up, turning it over and gazing at it. Blaine's hands were so masculine, popped veins, a light dusting of dark hair on the backs of them, perfect knuckles. And _god_ , the things Blaine could do with those hands, with his fingers – they were perfect. And Kurt wanted them in his mouth. Well, Kurt really wanted other things in his mouth as well, but they could wait. Right now, one finger, then two, and Blaine was moaning softly. Kurt sucked them all the way in, so far that he was tonguing around Blaine's wedding band, and the tears in his eyes weren't from any kind of gag reflex, but from the intense gratitude he felt that Blaine hadn't ever taken it off.

 

The two fingers were replaced by a tongue, and they were kissing again, Kurt rolling on top of Blaine to press him against the mattress. They were both hard, blissfully hard, their nerves abuzz with love and desire. They kissed and kissed and morning breath didn't even matter because Kurt _needed_ Blaine and Blaine _needed_ Kurt and by now they tasted the same anyway.

 

This, even more than the night before, was the assurance that Kurt needed that they would be okay. Because the night before had been lust-driven and frantic, about love, yes, but mainly about getting off. But this? This was love personified, waking up in the same bed, seeing each other wrecked and messy in the daylight and kissing each other through it and loving each other in spite of it. This _was_ the Blaine he fell in love with, he realized, finally understanding what Dr. Jacobson had told him. Blaine had changed, and so had he, but just because Blaine was taking an anti-depressant and the only reason he could eat was his bottle of Zofran, just because they'd needed some time to breathe, to think, to be apart, didn't mean that Blaine didn't love him just as much as he had six years prior when they'd made vows to each other.

 

It was Kurt who broke the silence a few moments later. "I want you," he whispered, his lips close to Blaine's ear.

 

Blaine smiled underneath him. "How?"

 

"Like before. But – together."

 

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific," Blaine said, his eyes sparkling in the morning light. "There have been a lot of 'before's.' I'm not sure which one you're talking about."

 

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I think you know _exactly_ which 'before' I'm talking about. I think you just want to hear me say it."

 

"And what if I do?"

 

"Fine." Kurt leaned in close, letting his breath wash warm over Blaine's ear. "I want to sixy-nine with you," he whispered.

 

The wattage in Blaine's smile could power the city for a week. "Okay."

 

Kurt made himself let go of Blaine long enough to turn around, facing the foot of the bed, and turned on his side.

 

"I love you," he said, swiping his tongue over the head of Blaine's perfect cock.

 

" _Mmm_ , Kurt …" Blaine sighed, laving at Kurt's balls, sucking one into his mouth.

 

They licked and teased and sucked, drawing it out, Kurt kissing up one side of Blaine's cock and down the other, gasping as Blaine ran his tongue in smooth circles around the head of his.

 

"I love you," Kurt murmured, breathing the words against Blaine's thigh. "Do you know how much?"

 

"Show me," Blaine said, following the big vein on the underside of Kurt's dick with his tongue.

 

It was impossible for Kurt to show Blaine how much he loved him. Kurt's love for Blaine took up more space than there was in the sky, which is why he crumbled so quickly into fine grains of dust when Blaine left him. But Blaine asked, so he'd do the best he could.

 

Kurt ran his fingers up and down the fronts of Blaine's thighs, lightly scratching with his fingernails. He stretched forward, breathing hot over Blaine's cock before slowly, torturously sinking his mouth down, feeling every ridge and bump and curve as he went. Blaine's cock was so smooth and so hard in his mouth, like silk-covered steel, and he inhaled slowly, trying to overwhelm his senses with everything Blaine. It wasn't difficult to do, with Blaine's balls right underneath his nose, Blaine's hands around his ass and Blaine's cock filling up his mouth.

 

Blaine moaned Kurt's name as he sank further. Kurt's gentle sucking seemed to ignite some sort of fire in him, because in one quick, smooth movement, he swallowed Kurt's cock whole, his hands squeezing each side of Kurt's ass hard. Kurt groaned around him, his hips jerking toward the back of Blaine's throat. Blaine didn't gag, just swallowed harder – he'd always been particularly gifted in the art of deep-throating, where it had taken Kurt years of practice, and still he couldn't always manage.

 

Kurt felt around on the bed with his one free hand, trying to locate the lube before he lost all his fine motor control. Finally his fingers hit the cool bottle under the sheets and he popped it open, messily squeezing some over his fingers while still sucking Blaine off. It was worth the difficulty, though, when he finally circled his slippery fingers over Blaine's hole, and Blaine growled around his cock, the vibrations in Blaine's throat sending vibrations through Kurt's entire body.

 

They continued this pattern, exponentially spurring each other on, until Blaine's hips were jerking and Kurt's eyes were watering, and _oh god, oh god, oh god …_

 

It was overwhelming, feeling this much pleasure in such a short amount of time after living in a sexual wasteland for the last month. Kurt didn't think that his body was quite big enough to handle all of it, two of his fingers being swallowed in Blaine's asshole, his cock being swallowed down Blaine's throat, his own throat in the middle of a welcome invasion by the tip of Blaine's cock. It was like he was being eaten alive and suffocated at the same time, and yet nothing had ever felt more intimate or sweet.

 

He wished he could speak, but his words were bound with Blaine's breadth. There were so many things to say, and he knew that even if he _could_ say them, they wouldn't come out right, not now, and then he stopped wishing, stopped thinking altogether because Blaine was doing something new with his tongue.

 

Kurt whined and fucked Blaine harder with his fingers, rubbing over his prostate, never letting the pad of a finger slip from the tiny little nub from which Blaine's cries were drawn. Blaine was getting rougher, and Kurt was getting closer, his voice one long string of muffled vowels as Blaine fucked his mouth hard over Kurt's cock. He acted like it was nothing for it to hit the back of his throat and slide deeper every time he sank down.

 

Kurt's orgasm hit him like a freight train.

 

He felt his body pulsating in time with Blaine's, their cocks spurting, their mouths filling, Blaine's hole clenching. Kurt couldn't breathe, so he pulled off with a gasp, hoping he wouldn't suck come down into his lungs as Blaine continued to shoot out, warm and wet on his face. He was moaning still, louder now that his mouth and throat were free as Blaine pulled the last of Kurt's orgasm from him with his tongue.

 

"Oh, oh _Blaine_ ," he begged, hugging around Blaine's pelvis because he had to get close, had to be _closer_ , and that was the most available part of his husband. But Blaine freed himself and pitched around the other way, kissing Kurt wetly, messily on the mouth, the remnants of their come mixing together. Their chests were heaving and Kurt grabbed around him and held him tight, Kurt's body quaking from exertion and need and lots and lots of oxytocin circulating in his bloodstream.

 

"Kurt," Blaine panted when their lips finally parted.

 

"Blaine?"

 

"I am so in love with you." Blaine's chest rose and fell heavily with each breath he took, and Kurt grinned at the streak of come smeared on his cheek. "Like – I am _so_ in love with you right now," Blaine continued. "My heart feels like it'll explode any minute. I mean, I'd ask you to marry me, but you already have."

 

Kurt laughed breathlessly, feeling boneless. All solid parts of him seemed to have been replaced by some sort of pixie dust made of mirth and love and orgasms, and he wondered if he wouldn't just float away if Blaine wasn't there to hold him, like Peter Pan and Wendy. He certainly had enough happy thoughts.

 

"You should ask me anyway," Kurt told him, kissing his forehead, his damp curls leaving a little drop of sweat on Kurt's nose.

 

Blaine grinned. "Okay." He paused. "Do I have to kneel?"

 

Kurt shook his head. "Nope."

 

Blaine's smile softened, and he took Kurt in his arms, cradling his head. "Kurt Anderson-Hummel," he started, and Kurt wanted to giggle. "Will you still be my husband? From now until the end of forever?"

 

"For always," Kurt whispered, and sealed his promise with a kiss.

 

* * *

 

Blaine wasn't sure how much time had passed when he woke up and saw Kurt gazing at him with eyes full of love, but the sun was streaming bright through the bedroom window, and he figured it had been a while.

 

"Hi," Kurt said, his voice a little rough.

 

"Hi," Blaine croaked back. "I think we missed breakfast."

 

Kurt laughed hoarsely. "I think we missed _lunch_."

 

"What time is it?"

 

Blaine watched Kurt reach over to his nightstand, the muscles in his back and shoulders rippling under his fair skin, now blemished with tooth-marks and hickeys. "It's two-fifteen."

 

"Mmm. I can't think of a better way to spend the day than to spend it in bed with you," Blaine said, grabbing Kurt's hand and kissing it.

 

"Well, I think we've succeeded in that," Kurt said. "But I think it's time for an out-of-bed break – we are totally disgusting. Let me shower, and then I can wash the sheets and make a late lunch while you get ready."

 

"Better idea: let's shower _together_ , and then I'll helpwith the sheets and lunch," Blaine said, waggling his eyebrows.

 

"If you insist," Kurt drawled. "But if you're planning any funny business, it better happen in the shower. I don't want us getting all … _distracted_ , shall we say, and getting jizz in our crepe batter."

 

Blaine beamed. "We're having _crepes_?" he exclaimed, already imagining the crispy, buttery pastries melting in his mouth. Kurt's crepes were to _die_ for.

 

Kurt laughed again. "I love that what you got out of that statement was the crepes, and not the shower sex or the jizz."

 

"What? I'm hungry! It's after two, we haven't had anything to eat since dinner last night, and we've kind of burned a lot of calories …" He paused. "But that doesn't mean I'm ruling out the shower sex. We should keep our options open, you know."

 

"Whatever you say, honey. You go start the water, and I'll grab us some towels." Kurt dragged himself from the bed, beautifully nude as he crossed the room and strode into the hallway. Blaine watched until his view was obstructed by the hall closet door, and he made his way into the bathroom.

 

But when he got there, something felt strange. It felt … empty, or off-kilter, but none of those things were right. It was just something he couldn't put his finger on. He looked around again and then it hit him like a punch to the gut – none of his things were there. His face turned stony as Kurt walked back in with a pair of towels from the hall closet.

 

"Here you – oh. What's wrong, honey?"

 

Blaine tried for a laugh, but it was more of a cough that came out of his throat. "I. Um. None of my stuff is here." He paused. "I don't _live_ here, Kurt."

 

"Oh," Kurt said, his voice growing soft. "Blaine – of course you do."

 

Blaine sighed heavily, trying to tug his fingers through his curls, wincing as they got caught in the tangles made the night before. _It's okay_ , he told himself, trying to remember what Dr. Jacobson had encouraged him to do. _Don't let this ruin your day. You and Kurt just had the most amazing night and morning – just be patient. It's okay_.

 

Kurt gently touched his shoulder. "Do you want to tell me what you're thinking right now?"

 

"I – nothing, it's fine." _It's fine. It's fine. It's fine._

 

"It's obviously not fine, Blaine. I can tell by the look on your face that it's not fine. Please, honey, talk to me."

 

"I _don't_ live here," he repeated softly, yielding to Kurt's request. "Everything's at Nick's, Kurt. I – I was a little preoccupied up until now, so I didn't really notice, but it's weird. It doesn't feel like home. And – I don't know why I'm getting upset about this. I did it. It's my fault …"

 

Kurt sighed. "It's not _just_ your fault, Blaine. We need to talk about it, but we also need to shower first. I'm so sticky that I feel like two-year-olds have been rubbing their grubby little hands all over me."

 

Blaine tried not to think about how they could've had a two-year-old, how she would've rubbed her sticky, grubby hands all over them and neither of them would've cared, even if she'd been eating peanut butter and jelly. "Well, by all means, then …"

 

"You can use my shampoo and soap." Kurt paused. "Actually, I kind of like the idea of you smelling like me for the rest of the day."

 

"That's fine, but I'm putting you in charge of my hair. I can't do anything with all that stuff you use."

 

Kurt smiled at him. "Just pretend that it's the olden days when we used to have sleepovers when Dad and Carole were in D.C. You used all my stuff then, too. You even borrowed my clothes."

 

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I left some sweatpants here. I can wear those and a paint t-shirt or something until I can get ho– back to Nick's."

 

Blaine felt his heart spasm in his chest as Kurt let go of his shoulder, his face falling. He hadn't meant to say that – Nick's apartment was even less of a home than the condo was, but it had just slipped out. "I – Kurt –"

 

"No, it's okay. I understand," Kurt said softly, hanging his head. "It's not like I've let this be much of a home to you lately." He paused. "Do you still want to shower with me? We don't have to …"

 

"Of course I do." Blaine sighed, tugging Kurt into an admittedly sticky hug. "I don't know why I said that – it doesn't feel like home there. Nowhere really feels like home right now."

 

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt sighed, kissing his tangled mess of curls.

 

"But that doesn't mean that I don't want to spend every waking moment of today with you. I – I'm not mad, or really even upset. It's just weird."

 

"Everything is weird right now."

 

"Everything but us," Blaine told him, hooking his chin over Kurt's shoulder. "We feel pretty perfect."

 

* * *

 

Their shower – which took longer than normal and used up all of the hot water in their condo, because Kurt insisted on washing _all_ of Blaine, including his cock, and well, that led to other things – was exactly what Blaine needed to clear his head. As he stepped out of the shower on shaky fawn legs, clutching Kurt's arm and Kurt clutching his, he realized he didn't feel quite so homeless anymore. Sometime in between when he spotted another bottle of silicone lube on the shower rack and when Kurt was thrusting into his thighs, streaks of come coating the underside of his balls, Blaine remembered that home used to be wherever Kurt was. He wasn't sure why that couldn't be true again.

 

They dressed side by side, and Blaine discovered that he'd left more clothes than he originally thought – a pair of corduroys tucked in the back of a drawer, some t-shirts, his Dalton hoodie that Kurt had taken to wearing on long, lonely nights.

 

"You look so … collegiate." Kurt grinned slyly as Blaine pulled the soft, well-worn cotton over his head. "How you can go from looking like you did last night –"

 

"Which was?" Blaine dug playfully, interrupting him.

 

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Like you stepped off a red carpet somewhere. _Anyway_ ," he continued, "how you could go from that to _this_ – god, you look like a kid. A really, really hot, of-legal-age-so-it's-not-creepy kind of kid."

 

"The kind of kid you'd like to settle down with?"

 

"The kind of kid I'd like to fuck all night, and _then_ settle down with."

 

Blaine beamed, laughing happily. "I love you," he said, giving Kurt a loud, smacking kiss. "Let's go make lunch."

 

* * *

 

"It wasn't just your fault."

 

Blaine looked up from the portobello mushroom caps he was washing. Kurt was standing with an empty measuring cup in his hand, poised over a large mixing bowl, a slightly tormented expression on his face. "Kurt?"

 

"This – this gigantic mess we've turned into. It's not your fault. It was both of us, or it was neither of us, and just how we reacted, but it wasn't just _you_. And – I think I might've made you feel like it was."

 

"Hey, where's this coming from?"

 

"I just –" Kurt said, whisking the batter with a little more force than Blaine thought was necessary. "I was thinking about what you said. About how this doesn't feel like home to you, and how it's your fault that it doesn't. It's not just your fault, Blaine." He took a deep breath, set the whisk down and turned around. "I was horrible toward you before you went to Nick's. _Horrible_. I know that. I knew it then." He paused. "I was stubborn, and I wanted things done my way. That's why I tried to clean out Violet's room. I think that somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought that if we could just move on, we'd be like us again. But I wasn't very good at listening to you or paying attention to what you needed, obviously."

 

Blaine couldn't meet Kurt's eyes, and instead focused on the large, round mushroom in his hand. He rubbed it gently with a paper towel, then turned it over, running his fingernail over its soft, brown gills.

 

"And then when you left … it was like somebody pulled blinders off my eyes. I knew it was the biggest mistake I'd ever made. I didn't understand – I should've understood, I should've paid more attention to you, but I didn't, and I thought I was going to die. I was so hurt, and so angry and I couldn't figure out how I could possibly survive without you, but I also couldn't figure out how you could possibly come back to me after storming out like that."

 

Blaine closed his eyes, trying not to squash the mushroom in his hand. "I know," he said brokenly, "and I've told you how sorry I am."

 

"And I've forgiven you, Blaine, a thousand times over. But I haven't told you how sorry _I_ am," Kurt said softly. "Not enough, at least. Maybe you shouldn't have left, but I'm the one who forced your hand. I'm the one who was so awful there for so long. I drove you away – I've _kept_ you away. I'm just as guilty as you are, if not more." He paused, looking at the ground. "Do you know that I haven't touched the nursery since that day? I closed the door, and I haven't gone in there again. It hurts too much. For a lot of reasons."

 

Blaine didn't know what to think about that. He could picture Violet's crib in pieces on the ground, could see the bags of books and clothes … and yet, the anger that normally flared in his belly when he thought of it was barely there.

 

"But Kurt – you were trying to help," Blaine said with a heavy sigh, feeling more tired than mad. "Your methods might have been a little misguided, but you were trying, and all I did was run away. That's all I've ever done."

 

"Blaine, first of all, that's not true. You didn't run away from our wedding, even though I went a little crazy for about three months, there. You didn't run away after Dad had his heart attack and I was _ill_ I was so worried."

 

"But –"

 

"No. We've got to stop this, honey. You've got to stop feeling guilty for leaving, and I've got to stop feeling guilty for taking the nursery apart, and we've got to figure out a way to move on." Kurt paused. "I just wish I knew how to do it."

 

Blaine thought of the pills he took nightly that hadn't kicked in yet, thought of the notepad that he was still writing in, thought of the documents on his laptop. "Well – we're working on it, aren't we? Maybe we should just table this until we can talk with Dr. Jacobson about it."

 

Kurt smiled. "You're right, of course. It's not like we don't have anything else to talk about until then – we've got a lot of time to make up for."

 

Blaine's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

 

Kurt cocked his head. "You don't actually think that I'd let you go back and stay with Nick after all this, do you?"

 

Blaine stood with his mouth agape, the mushroom hanging limp in his fingers. Kurt closed the few feet between them, took the mushroom and replaced it with his hands, affirming his presence. "Blaine. Come home."

 

Sweeter words had never been spoken. Blaine buried his face in Kurt's soft sweatshirt and nodded and nodded, letting go of Kurt's hands to hold tight around his waist. _Home_. All Kurt had to do was say the word, and the feelings of displacement, of homelessness were gone. Blaine was a vagabond no more.

 

" _Shhh_ ," he heard Kurt whisper, and it wasn't until then that Blaine realized he was crying. " _Shhh_ , honey, don't cry," but Kurt was crying with him. They clung to each other, sniffling, until Blaine's stomach growled loudly and they both laughed into each other's shoulders.

 

"Okay," Blaine said, pulling back and wiping his eyes. "Okay. So, I live here again."

 

"You do," Kurt repeated giddily.

 

"And since I live here – do I get to make decisions about lunch? Because, as you clearly heard, my stomach is about to start eating itself."

 

"I think lunch-decision privileges are in order. What's your decision about lunch?"

 

"That we eat it. Now. How long do these crepes take to make, anyway?"

 

Kurt's forehead wrinkled. "Umm – total? Forty-five minutes, maybe?"

 

Blaine feigned collapsing, sliding to the floor. " _Kuuuurt_ ," he whined, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead dramatically. "I haven't even gotten my stuff moved back in yet and you're going to let me die of _starvation_."

 

"Fine, Mr. Gloom and Doom. We'll eat crepes for dinner. Or – midnight snack? Or something. And we'll get Thai for lunch instead."

 

Blaine hopped up off the floor, happy as a clam. "Okay. But we're going to have to get a double order of everything, Kurt. I'm seriously _starving._ "

 

* * *

 

" _Nick_!"

 

Nick started awake from where he was napping on the couch with the TV on, exhausted from staying up late on Skype with Jeff the night before. "Wha?" He looked around, bleary eyes trying to focus, and reached over to the coffee table, trying to find his glasses.

 

"You are officially minus one semi-permanent houseguest!" Blaine exclaimed, striding through the door with Kurt at his heels.

 

Nick sat up, slid the glasses on his face. "What?"

 

"I'm stealing your temporary roommate back, if you don't mind," Kurt said with a smile, wrapping his arms around Blaine's waist from behind.

 

They were glowing, both of them, with huge, easy smiles on their faces. They looked happier than Nick had seen them since the baby shower and, yep, they'd definitely gotten laid. "Well, what are you doing here, then?" Nick asked with a grin, bounding off the couch and tugging both Kurt and Blaine into a bear hug.

 

Blaine laughed happily. "I'm just here to get my stuff out of your hair. I'm sorry I was in your way for such a long time."

 

"Actually, I'll really miss you," Nick said, ruffling Blaine's loose curls. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

 

Blaine shook his head. "I won't, I promise."

 

Kurt stepped from behind him, placing his hand on Nick's arm. "Thank you," he said earnestly. "So much. If it weren't for you –"

 

Nick pulled him into a hug. "I don’t want to play the what-if game," he said. "I was happy to be able to help. I'm just glad everything's working out."

 

"Me too," Kurt said, his eyes growing misty. "I need to make a phone call really fast – I'll just be right in the hall, okay, honey?"

 

Blaine nodded, kissing him on the cheek, and Nick couldn't keep the smile that radiated from his face away. "I'm happy for you, man," he said to Blaine as Kurt trotted out the door.

 

"Thanks. I am, too. I think we're actually gonna be okay. We're not there yet, but I think we're getting there."

 

"Good."

 

"Watching you and Jeff fall in love helped, you know," Blaine said softly, his head tilted just to the side. "It hurt a little, but it helped me remember what I was missing. I really, really hope things are good for you guys."

 

Nick beamed at him, his heart speeding up at the mere mention of Jeff's name. He hadn't been in this deep in a long time, so long that he'd almost forgotten what butterflies felt like, but he'd been getting very well reacquainted with them lately. "So far everything's awesome. I keep thinking it's going to get weird, but it hasn't at all. It's just – he feels like home, just like always, even _more_ now."

 

"Yeah," Blaine said, turning to gaze at the door from which Kurt had just exited. "I know what you mean."

 

For the first time since he moved to New York, Nick's worry for Blaine faded. He knew nothing could be magically repaired in a night, but he also knew that he hadn't seen that look in Blaine's eyes in a very long time. It was the look that was reserved for Kurt, and only for Kurt, the one that made him feel like he was intruding anytime it came over Blaine's eyes.

 

He set his hand on Blaine's shoulder. "Need some help getting your stuff together?"

 

Blaine turned back to him. "Thanks," he smiled. "I'd like that a lot."

 

* * *

 

"Dad." Kurt leaned against the wall in the hallway outside Nick's apartment, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to control the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him the moment he heard his father's voice over the phone.

 

"Kurt! It's good to hear your voice. How are you, kiddo?"

 

"I'm good. Really good," Kurt said in a thick voice, incredibly grateful that he could say those words with honesty.

 

"You sure? You sound like you're about to cry."

 

"Dad." His voice shook, and he held onto the wall, hoping that something solid under his hand would make it all feel real. "Blaine's coming home."

 

He could've sworn that he heard a gasp and a choked sob on the other end of the line, and then it was silence for a long several seconds. "Kurt. That's – oh, son, I'm so glad."

 

"Thank you –" Kurt breathed deeply, trying to keep his tears at bay. "Thank you for never giving up on us."

 

"Now what kind of a dad would I be," Burt said, his voice still thick, "if I gave up on my boys?"

 

Kurt's breath caught as the story of the prodigal son flashed through his mind. The first time he'd heard it was at church when he went with his friend in second grade, and he remembered being confused – even then, it didn't seem to be a story about God at all, but about family. He didn't think you had to believe in God to believe in family. And although it didn't make much sense to have something like that in the Bible, he remembered liking the story because it wasn't one about some big scary man in the sky making it rain crickets or turning the ocean red – it was about a _dad_ , and _that_ he could relate to. Because boy, did he love his.

 

Now, some twenty years later, he was reminded how much like that man his father really was, welcoming he and Blaine back into his fold, never doubting that they'd _both_ find their way home.

 

"Kurt? You still there bud?"

 

His mind must've wandered so far that he hadn't even heard his dad's question. "Yeah, Dad, I'm sorry – I kind of zoned out there for a second."

 

"I was asking, are you sure you don't want Carole and I to come help settle you guys back in?"

 

Kurt considered his offer – it would be really, really wonderful to see his dad again, and yet …

 

"I think it's something we need to do on our own," he said thoughtfully.

 

He heard Burt sigh softly. "I can respect that, but I sure do miss you boys."

 

"Maybe you can get Finn to come and set up Skype for you sometime this weekend, and we can talk like that. And I promise we'll be home for Thanksgiving."

 

His dad grunted. "That's an awful long way off."

 

"I know – but if I promise to make that caramel pumpkin pie that you said changed your life a couple years ago, will it make things better?"

 

"You drive a hard bargain, kiddo."

 

"I learned from the best," he smiled. "You know, I never would've said this three months ago, but I think I have a lot to be thankful for this year in spite of everything."

 

He could hear his dad's smile. "That's good, son. So do I."


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our story comes to a close ... for now :)

**Chapter 31**

 

**Monday, October 16 th, 2023**

Kurt sat on the now-familiar couch in the now-familiar bright, sunny green room sipping on a bottle of water, mainly to keep his hands occupied. "So," he said, "it's come to my attention lately that I'm kind of an enormous asshole."

 

Dr. Jacobson raised her eyebrows. "Really."

 

"Well, I have been in the past. I mean, I _really_ was in high school, but we're not counting that because – anyway. What I'm talking about now is that I've been an asshole to Blaine."

 

"Kurt, take a breath." He stopped, doing as she asked as sympathetic amusement danced in his therapist's eyes.

 

"Do your counseling services include personality refurbishment?"

 

She laughed. "I think we can figure something out. But first – can you clarify 'enormous asshole' for me?"

 

Kurt sighed. "After Violet was gone, I don't think I ever listened to a word he said. I was so wrapped up in my own head that I didn't care how much he was falling apart – actually, that's not true. I cared. I just didn't care to find out _how_ he was falling apart. I think I expected him to grieve the same way I was grieving, and he didn't. He _still_ isn't. And I don't know if he ever will."

 

"Well, that's quite an astute observation, Kurt. Have you been thinking about this for a while, or …"

 

"I really started thinking about it on Friday, after our couple's therapy. I didn't expect Blaine to be quite so supportive about my promotion, and then it hit me like a ton of bricks – Blaine hasn't _ever,_ this whole time, been unsupportive. He's been distant and moody and angry and he walked out, but that was a reaction to what I did. Not once did I say something and he just not listen, and – god, I feel like such an ass." He rubbed over his temples, now beginning to ache with the beginnings of a tension headache. "Sometimes I wonder how the hell we even got here. It doesn't feel real sometimes, you know? Some days I feel like I'm going to wake up and realize that I was dreaming the whole time."

 

Dr. Jacobson smiled sadly at him. "That would be easier, wouldn't it?"

 

Kurt groaned. "It really, really would."

 

She made a little sympathetic noise and tipped her head to the side. "Back to Blaine – what about you? Have you been supportive of him?"

 

"I thought I was. I was _trying_ to be." He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was trying to _fix_ him, not _support_ him. I – he doesn't need fixing. He thinks he does, I think, and I can only wonder how much I've contributed to that."

 

"And you think that's a problem with your personality?"

 

"I –" Kurt paused. "I don't know."

 

"Here's what I think," Dr. Jacobson said. "I think both of you have been the same nightmare of a year, but you've experienced it in entirely different ways, like you said. What I want you to do is to get to where you can understand and respect each other's perspectives. I want you to be able to listen to each other and actually hear the other is saying. I don't think you need any sort of personality refurbishment. I think you're pretty fantastic the way you are, Kurt."

 

He grinned. "Well, I've always thought so, but …"

 

Dr. Jacobson laughed. "Why don't we start thinking of ways to improve your listening skills, instead of your personality. How are the two of you communicating, lately? Are you talking on the phone a lot? Skyping?"

 

"Oh!" Kurt exclaimed. "I haven't even told you! I can't believe – it just feels so normal already – Blaine moved back in on Saturday. So, um, we're communicating pretty well, I guess, just …" He blushed, saying the last part in a mumbled rush. " _Notalwayswithourmouths._ I mean!" He dropped his head in his hands. "I mean. I didn't –"

 

"Kurt. It's okay to talk about sex in here." He could hear the smile in her voice.

 

"I'm not good at talking about sex with people who aren't Blaine," he said, his face still hidden by his fingers.

 

"Well, can you pretend I'm Blaine?"

 

" _No_."

 

"Okay, okay," she laughed, "we'll try something else. Can you talk to me about it from an emotional standpoint? I don't need to know what you did, or how you did it, but can you tell me how it felt in here?" She placed her hand over her heart.

 

Kurt took a deep breath and slowly let his hands fall to his lap. "I might be able to do that."

 

"Okay. Good."

 

He closed his eyes, thinking back to the weekend when Blaine's beautiful fingers drew paths of love all over his skin. "It felt like mending," he said softly. It felt like he was being knit back together on Friday night when they'd had frantic, gorgeous, lustful sex, like he was being stitched up on Saturday morning while they'd sucked each other off, and that morning before his appointment when the whipped cream for the scones had gone toward another use entirely, well, he felt almost whole again. "And I think it did for Blaine, too."

 

"Good. That's how I hoped you would feel," Dr. Jacobson said. "But as good as it feels, and – you can correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm assuming that it's probably been a while –as often as you're probably both wanting to be intimate – it's important that you don't stop talking in lieu of having sex."

 

Kurt nodded, blushing scarlet.

 

"You know how we practice active listening when you're both here? You repeat what you hear Blaine saying, and vice versa?"

 

"You want us to do that at home, too, right?" he asked.

 

"I'd really like for you to, if you can. One of the biggest instigators of fights between couples is misunderstanding, and if you take that piece out …"

 

Kurt nodded. "We've been trying. It's been better." And it had – it was easier to talk after sex, when they were both loose and open and comfortable and when Kurt felt like his heart was joined to Blaine's again. They'd talked about everything, Kurt's new position at the studio, Blaine's talks with Alex, Nick and Jeff's blooming relationship – everything except Violet. "It's not perfect, not by a long shot, but it's better. And – we're together again. I don't know if we would be if it hadn't been for you, so thank you. I feel like you brought my husband back to me."

 

Dr. Jacobson smiled. "Well, you two are the ones who've done all the work. You need to give yourself a little credit, too, Kurt. And fact that Blaine's come home is just the tip of the iceberg. We need to make sure he _stays_ , that he wants to stay."

 

"I'll do whatever it takes," he promised. "I've lost him once, and once was more than enough."

 

"Put on your armor, then, because the fight's not over yet. But I think both of you are well-equipped to be able to see it through."

 

* * *

 

Jeff sat cross-legged on his bed, too far away in Chicago, eating lo mein out of a take-out carton and staring at the gorgeous man on his computer screen.

 

"You know nobody can know that we do this," Nick said around a mouthful of noodles. "They'd never let us hear the end of it."

 

"I don't care what they say or what they think," Jeff said. "I get to eat dinner with you every night, this way. Fuck everybody who has a problem with it."

 

Nick swallowed, then grinned, his face just slightly grainy over the connection. "I love you. Oh, hey, guess what?"

 

Jeff grinned back at him, his heart light. Who cared if he'd had a shitty day with a demanding client that talked so long he completely missed his lunch meeting with his boss? The only thing he needed was sitting in front of him – if not quite literally, almost. "What? And I love you, too."

 

"I told my parents today. About us."

 

Jeff dropped his chopsticks into the little white box. "…And?"

 

He'd always liked Nick's parents, and he thought they liked him fairly well, but they'd never spent too much time together, as Jeff's family lived in Wisconsin and Nick was from Connecticut. Both of them had been boarders at Dalton, and save one winter break when Jeff's parents were separated and he couldn't stand to be at home and had gone with Nick instead, they'd both gone back to their respective cities whenever they weren't at school. He had no idea how Nick's parents, who were from old money and were devout Episcopalians, would take the news that their son was dating another man.

 

"Dad was pretty quiet, but he didn't say anything offensive, and he didn't seem devastated or anything. Mom mainly gushed about how polite you always were, and how she always liked you better than Caroline, so … I think we're good."

 

Jeff let out the breath he'd been holding. "Good."

 

"And they want you to come home for Thanksgiving."

 

" _What_?" he squawked, nearly spilling lo mein all over his comforter. Having Nick's parents accept the fact that they were dating was one thing; having an invitation to _Thanksgiving_ was something else entirely.

 

"Hey, it'll be fine. It's not like you've never met them."

 

"Yeah, but –"

 

"But what?"

 

"I never met them as the _boyfriend_ ," Jeff said, his voice low and conspiratorial.

 

"Well, the _boyfriend_ will just have to mind his manners and bow his head when Dad says grace, and everything will be fine."

 

Jeff wished that Nick's hand was available to hold. "Okay," he said, soft and vulnerable. "I think I trust you. And I'll get Kurt to teach me how to make a pie the next time I'm in New York, just in case the manners thing doesn't work out."

 

Nick grinned. "Bribe them with food. Very clever."

 

"Never let it be said that I go down without a fight," he grinned back. "Now that that's settled – what's new in the world of our good friends Kurt and Blaine? I want all the juicy gossip …"

 

* * *

 

**Wednesday, October 18 th, 2023**

Blaine sat in Dr. Jacobson's office during his weekly appointment, talking about Kurt and how his move home was going. In the middle of a sentence, he shook his head.

 

"I know this is important and I know we need to talk about it, but Dr. Jacobson – I wrote about her yesterday."

 

"Her? You mean Violet?"

 

Blaine nodded. "Violet. I – I want to talk about her. It's kind of counterproductive to say I'm working out my issues and start taking meds when I won't even talk about the thing that set me off in the first place, isn't it?"

 

"I think it's more counterproductive to traumatize yourself by talking about something you aren't ready for, and I think if you're not ready, you should wait. But if you _are_ ready now, I'm more than happy to listen."

 

Blaine clutched the notebook in his hands, then opened it, flipping to the pages he'd written the day before. Normally he wrote on his laptop, but this – it felt too precious, too close to his heart to type the words on a computer screen. He needed to write them with his own hand. They were scrawled in an unusually messy script, and there were tear stains on the pages from where he'd sobbed as he poured his heart out. He wasn't planning to read her anything written on the pages – it was more stream of consciousness than anything, and wouldn't have made much sense – but it felt weighty in his hands, and he thought it might help ground him.

 

"It was Kurt's idea to have a baby," he said, looking at the floor. "But once I got onboard – which really didn't take much convincing – god, I was obsessed. I was so determined, like, stubborn to a fault, that I was going to do this parenting thing right. I wasn't going to be the kind of parent that my dad was, or that my mom was. I was going to break the cycle."

 

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Would you like some water, Blaine?" Dr. Jacobson asked him.

 

"No. I just – no. I need to get this out." He paused. "While Abby was pregnant, I tried to keep the excitement sort of at bay, because I knew things could happen at anytime, but once I saw that ultrasound picture …" He shook his head, and pulled out his phone. He'd never deleted it from his photo album.

 

"Here," he said softly, handing it to Dr. Jacobson. "I know it's grainy and she's tiny, but I saw it, and – it's her face. You can see her face, it's like a perfect profile, and I swear to god her nose looked just like that when she was born, and – how was I supposed to keep from loving that?"

 

Dr. Jacobson handed the phone back silently.

 

"When she was born, that was it. Any doubts or fears that I might not be able to do this, to be a dad, just flew away the first time I laid eyes on her, and –" He stopped, scrolling through the album he kept locked. "Here." He handed the phone back to Dr. Jacobson, and he could tell that she couldn't keep from smiling, covering her mouth with her hand.

 

"Oh, Blaine, she's gorgeous."

 

"I know. I didn't know it was possible to love something – someone – as much as I loved her, but I just knew we were going to have this fantastic bond and I'd take her to the zoo and the park and take her shopping and –" He broke off, his voice breaking, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "And now none of that is ever going to happen."

 

She handed the phone back to him, patting his knee. "Can you tell me about the nursery?"

 

Blaine bit his lip, looking up at the ceiling. "It was our dream nursery. We searched and planned – well, Kurt did most of the planning, because that's kind of his _thing_ , you know? But it was perfect. It was – her. She looked like she belonged there, whether she was lying in her crib, or if Kurt was rocking her, and –" He stopped again, closing his eyes. "We didn't touch it for months. It was like – it wasn't a shrine, but – I don't know, she was immortalized in there. Not that – she didn't die, but –"

 

"It's okay, Blaine," Dr. Jacobson said gently. "Just take a breath. You can get through this."

 

"It was September 1st," Blaine continued after staring down at the floor for a while. "I'll never forget – I'd gone out with Rachel, thinking Kurt was sick, and when I came back –" His eyes stung with tears. "It was like she was gone for good. I wasn't ready. I know I was stuck in a really awful place, and I know I needed to move on, but _god_ , he had no right –"

 

She handed him a tissue, and he dabbed his eyes with it. "And what does it look like now?" she asked.

 

Blaine laughed drily. "The door's still closed.It hasn't been touched since that day. I couldn't – we still can't go in there, either one of us. For Kurt, it's not her, it's me. He doesn't want to be reminded of when I left, and I get that. But for me, it's just – it's her, you know? The whole thing. Every square inch of that room has Violet written all over it."

 

"That seems like a lot for just having had her for five days," Dr. Jacobson mused. "Could it be that it's what you wanted your life with Violet to _become_ that's written all over it?"

 

Blaine stared at her, a little dumbfounded. "I –"

 

"I'm not saying that's what it is. I'm asking," she clarified. "Tell me what has her written all over it."

 

"The crib," he said, blinking back tears, a vision of Violet sleeping peacefully painted in his mind. "The rocker, where we'd read her stories. We changed her diapers in there. Her clothes –"

 

"How many of them did she wear?" He stared at her again. "Blaine, she was home with you for five days. If I know you and Kurt at all, you certainly had more outfits than that. And if I know you and Kurt at all, you had special outfits already picked out for special occasions …"

 

"We had her swimsuit already," he said. "We'd – we wanted to take her to the Hamptons this summer. She had a beach bag, and we'd gotten toys even though there was no way she'd be able to use them, and …" he trailed off. "And there was this little dress – one of the designers Kurt works with made it for her, it's got this green skirt with a navy bow and a white top and I don't even know why, but I wanted to take her to the park for the first time in it." He paused. "She never even got to put it on."

 

"What else?"

 

"She had so many books," he said, tears brimming from his eyes. "We didn't have time – I didn’t get to read them all to her. I know it was only June, but we already had all these Christmas books, and …" He clenched the edge of the couch tightly in his hand. "Do you think I never really loved her at all? Do you think I just loved what I wanted her to become – what I wanted _us_ to become? Like … I was trying to live vicariously through her, fix my childhood by replacing it with hers? Oh, god …" Blaine felt sick to his stomach. If it were true – if that was what he'd been doing all along, if _that_ was why he was grieving – he'd officially be the worst human being on the face of the earth.

 

"Blaine, Blaine," Dr. Jacobson was saying. He felt like she was pulling him out of a pool of water, and he blinked his eyes as he resurfaced. "That's not at all what I think."

 

"What do you think, then?" he asked, anguished.

 

"I think," she said, "that when people – when _anyone_ has a baby, whether that baby is adopted or conceived naturally, that the baby starts out as a little bundle of potential. You make plans, you have ideas, preconceptions of what parenting is going to be like. Some of those plans work out and some of them don't, and some of your ideas are proven right, and some are proven wrong. But sometimes, and it's horrible no matter how it happens, all of those plans get cut short. It's _normal_ to feel what you're feeling, Blaine. Because grieving your plans and your ideas is sometimes even harder than grieving the actual child, especially when that child was only with you for a short time."

 

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but Dr. Jacobson stopped him. "I'm not saying that you aren't grieving for Violet," she said. "I'm saying that you're having to grieve both things. And that's hard."

 

"There's one more thing," Blaine said, ashamed to say it out loud. "I – I feel awful for doing it, and I know it's way too much expectation to be placed on a baby that can't even hold her head up, but I was just hoping – I thought she might help with a reconciliation with my mom. Probably not my dad, because I think he could care less about babies in general, but – my mom has such a soft spot for them. She – I was hoping that it would be a good way to start talking to her again."

 

Dr. Jacobson looked at him sympathetically. "And there's a third thing you're having to grieve, and not something small, either. Did Kurt know about that? That you were hoping to reconcile with your mother?"

 

"No. I never told him. I was too afraid to say it while Abby was still pregnant, and we were too busy to talk about it while Violet was at home with us. And once she went back to Abby … I never felt the need to bring it up. It didn't matter."

 

"Well, clearly it matters to you."

 

Blaine shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not always that great at seeing the value in things that matter to me."

 

Dr. Jacobson smiled. "I know it probably doesn't feel like it," she said, "but the fact that you were able to tell me that? It's a huge step forward, Blaine. We're just about out of time for now, but we can definitely revisit that next week, okay?"

 

He nodded. "On Friday – if it's okay with Kurt, and you, I'd really like to talk about Violet's room. I – it's like living with a ghost. I don't want to go in, I don't want to even _look_ at it, but –" He took yet another deep breath and closed his eyes again. "I know I'm never going to be able to move on and get better if I don't."

 

Dr. Jacobson was quiet for a moment. "Blaine?" she finally said.

 

"Mmm-hmm?"

 

"I'm very proud of you."

 

He opened his eyes to look at her, surprised to see tears in her eyes. "Oh, Dr. Jacobson, I didn't mean to make you cry," he said, his heart thudding hard.

 

She smiled at him. "They're good tears, Blaine. Proud tears. Happy tears."

 

"Oh. Well, I guess in that case …" He managed a smile.

 

"I look forward to seeing you and Kurt on Friday," she said, swiping at her eyes with a flick of her fingers.

 

"Yeah. I look forward to seeing you, too." Blaine rose and left her office, feeling oddly light, and instead of going home, Blaine went straight to Bean Me Up, took out his notebook and started to write.

 

* * *

 

Kurt had barely gotten his pajamas on that night when Blaine took his hand and led him to the bed.

 

"I – I wrote something for you today," he said bashfully. "Therapy was hard, but really, really _good_ , and I went to Bean Me Up and … well, this happened."

 

Kurt tipped his head to the side. "What is it, honey?"

 

"It's how I feel," Blaine said, pulling a notebook from the drawer of his nightstand, retrieving a piece of paper from inside. He began to read in a quiet voice.

 

_Our hearts torn out,_

_we tried to mend the gaping holes_

_with too much drink and skin and bones._

_We did not know_

_that we were wasting precious time._

_I used me up,_

_with nothing left for you to hold._

_Like isles we were, alone amongst_

_the crashing waves._

_But men weren't meant to live that way._

_So we came home,_

_a mighty quest, for sure, to battle_

_wine and bread and pain and sleep._

_But we prevailed,_

_the dragon, slain, laid at our feet._

_And, free to love,_

_our arms wrapped 'round the scars and bones,_

_we settle back into the strides_

_of lovers' pace_

_where by your side, I find my place._

 

Kurt stared into his husband's clear eyes, light amber orbs glistening wet with tears. He slowly, carefully traced his fingers down Blaine's cheekbone, cupping his jaw in his palm. "Blaine," he said, almost a whisper. "That was lovely." He leaned in and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to Blaine's lips.

 

"I know we're not there yet," Blaine breathed against Kurt's mouth, his hands gripping Kurt's hips. "But that's true, what I said there at the end. 'We settle back into the strides of lovers' pace, where by your side I find my place.' That's real. That's now."

 

"I know. It is for me, too," Kurt murmured. "I want you to tell me what happened in therapy to prompt that, but first – come to bed with me, honey. I need to be close to you right now."

 

"Yes," Blaine sighed, pulling up the covers and slinking beneath them, holding them up long enough for Kurt to follow behind him.

 

"Did you take your medicine?" Kurt asked him as he snuggled into Blaine's warm arms and soft thermal t-shirt.

 

"I did," Blaine answered softly. "I'm getting better at remembering."

 

Kurt craned his neck to look at his husband. "Is it helping? Can you tell any difference?"

 

"Well, it's only been two weeks. Dr. Seang said that it can take up to a full month for it to take full effect, but … I'm maybe a little calmer? I don't know. Part of it is probably that I'm home now." Kurt sighed happily as Blaine nuzzled into his neck. "Cuddle therapy with you is almost as good as taking the meds, I think."

 

"Mmmm," Kurt sighed in agreement. "I love cuddle therapy."

 

"I love _you_."

 

Kurt looked up at the print on the wall from their wedding that always made his heart ache so badly when Blaine was gone and their bed felt so empty. For the first time since June, he felt like he might be able to smile like that again someday. He was almost smiling like that now.

 

* * *

 

**Thursday, October 19 th, 2023**

"So, what've you got for me?" Alex asked taking a bite of his BLT.

 

"A whole hell of a lot of stream of consciousness," Blaine said, plopping the notebook down in front of Alex. "You can read what's flagged with a post-it. The other stuff, I'd rather you not, until I get it in a more polished format. That's my heart flayed open on those pages, and I need you to respect that."

 

Alex looked up, his eyebrows raised. "Yes, sir. You're really into that therapy thing, aren't you?"

 

"I thought you were glad I was going."

 

"Oh, I am, man. You just seem – different."

 

Blaine smiled. "Good. I want to." He patted the notebook set in front of his agent. "Now, read this, and tell me that it's something we can work with."

 

* * *

**Friday, October 20 th, 2023**

"Blaine – are you _sure_?"

 

Kurt couldn't believe his own ears. He wouldn't have, if Dr. Jacobson hadn't been sitting right across from them, smiling encouragingly.

 

"Well, no, I'm not sure. But I _am_ sure that neither one of us are ever going to move on if that door stays closed for the rest of our lives. Hasn't it been hanging over your head?"

 

It had, at first. The first few weeks that Blaine had been gone, the door seemed to mock him every time he walked past it. But Kurt was so used to it by now that it seemed to fade into the woodwork. He could walk right past it, pretend it was just part of the wall.

 

Kurt knew that opening that door would release all manner of demons.

 

"I – I think I've gotten used to it," he said.

 

Blaine blinked at him. "Oh."

 

"Kurt, tell me what you think Blaine's trying to say," Dr. Jacobson interjected.

 

He paused to think. _Neither of us are ever going to move on_ , Blaine had just said. _I'm not sure_. He looked up. "Do you want closure, honey?"

 

Blaine nodded, clearly relieved that Kurt could put the words in his mouth. "And – I don't know, I kind of want to do it before I lose the nerve. Soon. Like – maybe this afternoon?"

 

Kurt stared at him. This after _noon_? After they got out of therapy? He'd been looking forward to a nice evening, a simple dinner of homemade pizza, maybe a movie and some wine. He hadn't been planning on opening Pandora's box in his home. "I –"

 

"If you need more time, I understand," Blaine said quickly. "You've given me plenty; it's the least I could do …"

 

Before he said anything, Kurt stopped to figure out what exactly he was scared of. It wasn’t Violet's memory that he was afraid of letting out, though he knew that was what Blaine was thinking. It was the memory of Blaine walking out on him – but then, Blaine had promised over and over that he'd never leave again …

 

"This can't be a repeat of last time, honey," he said carefully.

 

Blaine looked up, eyes wide. "No. No, of course not, Kurt. I've told you I'd never –" He stopped. "If you aren't ready," he continued after a moment, very tenderly, "I will wait."

 

"I know. I know you will. But you need closure, and I want to give you that. I do. It's just …"

 

"What, Kurt?" Dr. Jacobson asked.

 

Kurt looked down. "That room has so many demons. I – I'm just a little afraid that once the door is open, all of this will fly out of your head and you'll need to leave again. And – I swear, I get that Blaine, but I cannot live through you walking out that door another time –"

 

"What if I promised not to?" Blaine asked. "I'm not saying I won't freak out, but – what if I promised to go in the bedroom and just _breathe_ for a minute if I need to? And – if it was absolutely necessary that I get out, what if I just take you with me? We can walk around the block, cool off, try it again?"

 

Kurt looked at him. Blaine's face was sincere and earnest, and _oh_ the love there, on Blaine's face and in Kurt's heart –

 

"That seems like a pretty reasonable offer to me, Kurt, but obviously it's up to you," Dr. Jacobson chimed in.

 

It _was_ reasonable, was the thing. It was sensible and practical and of course it made sense, Blaine just taking Kurt with him – Kurt could help calm him down, and wouldn't feel like he was being walked out on. "I …"

 

"But I swear, Kurt, if you're not ready, it's _fine_. I'll wait," Blaine repeated insistently, and in the end, that was really the deciding factor, that Blaine would stay uncomfortable just so Kurt wouldn't be.

 

"Okay. We – we can try. I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

 

* * *

 

Kurt and Blaine were quiet but stayed close as they made the trip home, their fingers entangled and their shoulders touching. Words weren't necessary. They communicated everything through the pressure of a hand on a shoulder, the tilt of a head, a softened glance. It was the beauty of marriage, Blaine thought contentedly, of being with someone for so many years that they could read your every gesture and expression.

 

They were silent all the way up to Violet's nursery until the door stared them down, daring them to open it.

 

Blaine, feeling the need to be the one to break the seal, stepped forward and turned the handle. Gasping, he felt like he'd just stepped into a horror film.

 

The room was dim, had seen no light but the sun for weeks on end, and a thin film of gray dust rested on everything in the room. The sheer curtains looked ghostly in the late-afternoon light; the stacks of crib pieces and boxes cast eerie shadows on the dull hardwoods. The lavender glider didn't look quite so lavender anymore; in fact, between the dust and the sallow pallor that fell over the room, it looked more like a chair that Miss Havisham might have chosen to make her throne upon. Blaine half-expected it to start rocking of its own volition at any moment.

 

And then Kurt pushed past him and flicked on the light.

 

Blaine looked around, blinking fast, memories flooding his veins. He took a deep breath, placing a hand against the wall to try and steady himself.

 

"Okay," Kurt said, finally breaking the heavy silence. "Let's get this done. We need to talk about what we're going to do with all of this." He sat down cross-legged on the floor, running a finger over one of the dust-covered crib pieces.

 

"None of it goes in the trash," Blaine said a little harsher than he'd meant to, and the guilt was instantaneous. _Breathe, Blaine, just breathe in and out_ …

 

"I think that goes without being said," Kurt said softly.

 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean –"

 

Kurt reached out to pet Blaine's leg, his hand curling around the back of Blaine's calf and squeezing affectionately. "Honey. It's okay."

 

Blaine breathed deeply, and it – _was_ okay, sort of.

 

"Let's start with what we're keeping," Kurt suggested. "Do you think you can handle looking at the box again?"

 

Blaine closed his eyes. "I think so."

 

"It's on the top shelf in the closet – I'll get it for you, if you can't reach," Kurt gently teased, and oh thank god he could still make Blaine smile.

 

"I think I'll manage somehow," Blaine said back. "After all, you did put _stepstools_ in every room after we bought this place, remember?"

 

Kurt grinned. "Just trying to be helpful!"

 

Blaine sobered a bit when his hands brushed against the smooth wooden box (and okay, maybe he'd had to stand on his tiptoes a _little_ ), and he carefully pulled it from the shelf.

 

Kurt patted the floor beside him. "Do you want to sit down?"

 

"I think I'd better." Blaine dropped to the floor next to Kurt, the hardwoods pressing against his tailbone. "Here – you can open it."

 

"Oh, Blaine …" Kurt breathed as he untied the lavender ribbon, opened the wooden box.

 

Blaine plastered himself to Kurt's side as they looked through it, pulling out each item, letting themselves wonder over crocheted booties and a pink and blue striped hat, pausing to flip through the book they'd read her before she'd been taken from them.

 

"I can't believe it was almost five months ago," Blaine murmured, stroking his hand over one of the pages.

 

"I can't believe it _happened_ ," Kurt said, resting his head on Blaine's shoulder. "It kind of feels like a bad dream."

 

Blaine reached around Kurt's waist and hugged him, and they sat, holding each other, for several minutes.

 

"I'm glad you kept it," Blaine finally said. "The box, I mean. I wasn't really in my right mind that day, and I know I said some awful things, but I really am, Kurt."

 

"I'm glad," Kurt said softly, picking up the outfit they'd brought her home from the hospital in. "Nobody will ever be able to say she was never ours…"

 

"Fuck anyone who thinks that. _We_ know she was."

 

"I know," Kurt said, laying the sleeper carefully back in the box. "You ready?"

 

"As I'll ever be," Blaine said. "What's next?"

 

"Well, we can't put _everything_ in storage," Kurt sighed, unfolding himself from Blaine's arms and closing the box once more. There's not room in our unit. So we need to decide what to keep, and what to consign," Kurt said. He grabbed Blaine's hand and held it tight. "I think we should keep the crib. Just in case …"

 

Blaine nodded slowly. It made sense – if they ever had another baby, it was a high-ticket item that he wouldn't necessarily want to buy a second time. And if they didn't, well, they had friends who he was sure would love to use it. "Okay. But I think we can consign the bedding. Even if we have another baby – and I am so not ready for that conversation, so let's not even go there – I wouldn't want to use the same pattern," Blaine said softly, gingerly picking up the fitted sheet. "This is hers. It always will be."

 

"Of course it will, honey," Kurt murmured, kissing him on the cheek. "What about the books?"

 

"Keep them," Blaine said without further explanation. "And – do we know anybody who's pregnant? I'd hate for all those clothes to go to waste."

 

"A girl I work with," Kurt said, his voice brittle with pain. "She just found out she's having a girl."

 

Blaine bit his lip to keep his face from twisting. "That's wonderful," he said thickly.

 

"I know," Kurt said wetly, not even trying to keep from crying. "She has the most perfect little pregnant belly. It reminds me of Abby's."

 

"Baby …" Blaine reached out his arms and let Kurt crawl into them again, wrapping him in the warmest hug he could muster.

 

When Kurt finally let go, he managed a smile. "We've got to stop getting so distracted. Go grab some post-it notes for me, honey. We need to start labeling."

 

* * *

 

**Saturday, October 21 st, 2023**

Kurt awoke early the next morning, ready to finish what they'd started.

 

Having been too spent the night before to actually do anything with the boxes they'd sorted and labeled, he and Blaine had fallen on top of the covers, tangled up in each other, half-dressed, their dinners only partly eaten. They'd moaned through a pair of lazy handjobs and fell asleep, just like that.

 

After rushing through quiet showers and tugging on warm, comfortable clothes, Kurt and Blaine loaded the boxes labeled with pink and green post-it notes into the trunk of a cab and, armed with a pack of Kleenex in Kurt's coat pocket, started the journey to say goodbye to Violet for good.

 

The first stop was the easier of the two – they hastily carried box after box up the stairs and into the small locked room, adjusting and rearranging until everything managed to fit.

 

When Kurt finally stood back and pronounced it finished, they hesitated before locking the door, heading back down the stairs. Because after this came the harder part.

 

The consignment shop that they were headed to was in Astoria, a part of town they rarely ventured into.

 

The woman Kurt had spoken on the phone with the evening before was, thankfully, gracious regarding their situation, and agreed to have any checks they received mailed to them so they'd never have to set foot inside again.

 

As their cab pulled up to the front of the building, which boasted an adorable logo on the sign above the door and carefully decorated storefront windows, Kurt had to pull the pack of tissues from his pocket.

 

"Hey," Blaine said, covering Kurt's hand with his own. "We're gonna get through this, okay?"

 

Kurt nodded, wiping his nose with the tissue, and they unloaded the four boxes left in the trunk, and paid their cab driver. They'd be taking the subway home.

 

They piled the boxes on top of each other and carried them, two apiece, into the store.

 

"May we help you?" one of the girls behind the counter asked, just as another girl emerged from the back room.

 

"Oh, you must be the Anderson-Hummels," she said, smiling at them. "I think I spoke with Kurt on the phone yesterday?"

 

"Ah, right, that's me," Kurt said, juggling the boxes so he could reach forward and quickly shake her hand. "You must be Jamie."

 

She nodded. "Are you both still alright with our arrangement? You'll leave the boxes here and we'll go through the items after you leave, and if there's anything we can't take, it'll be donated to charity?"

 

"Yes," Blaine said softly. "Where can we put them?"

 

Jamie gestured to a table where they set the boxes down and were then handed a clipboard. "Just fill this paper out, and you'll be all set."

 

Kurt blinked at her for a short moment, then quickly filled out the form with their information on it. "So – that's it?" he asked, handing it back to her. It all felt so quick for something so final.

 

"That's it," she said, smiling softly. "You two have a good afternoon."

 

"I –" Kurt stood, a little dumbfounded, looking around at the store. They were in baby and maternity paradise, toys and swings and bottles abounding, even a breast pump here and there. And they were left standing empty-handed.

 

"Is there something else you need?" she asked, her smile turning a little too bright.

 

It was Blaine who answered for them, since Kurt's mouth didn't seem to want to work. "No," he said, trying to make his voice sound strong. "No, I don't think there's anything else for us here." He turned to Kurt. "Come on, baby. Let's go home."

 

Kurt couldn't help the tears that spilled from his eyes as they walked out of the store and back onto the sidewalk, where a brisk autumn breeze was blowing leaves down the street in clusters. He clung to Blaine and Blaine clung to him and they walked too slowly down the sidewalk with their arms around each other. He didn't care who glared at them for taking up one extra person's breadth of room. He _needed_ Blaine's proximity, his nearness, for they were leaving with nothing once and for all, and it would be them against the world from now on once again. He needed to make sure his partner in crime was by his side at all times.

 

* * *

 

Blaine sniffled quietly to himself as he walked the last few blocks home from the subway station, his husband on his arm. His breath came out in stutters against the breaking of his heart, and he tucked his chin deeper into his lightweight navy scarf. His mood didn't match the crisp weather, a chilly breeze blowing, but plenty of sunshine, and the corners of his mouth twisted downward as he conjured an image of what was in those boxes, Violet's swing, her beautiful bedding, her stuffed animals. Just the thought of saying goodbye to all of it made him feel cold and dreary in the midst of the vivid sunbeams.

He slowed their pace, not ready to be home. Rounding the last corner, he and Kurt both looked longingly at the kids who were playing on the playground at the Catholic school down the street. He reluctantly opened the door of his building for his husband, watching as Kurt's slim back entered in front of him. A welcome whoosh of warm air washed over him as he held the door while Kurt ambled inside. Following behind him, Blaine pulled his scarf down and unwound it from his neck.

 

Catching Kurt's arm again, they shuffled toward the elevator together and he sighed, trying to rub some warmth back into Kurt's hands. "Maybe it's getting to be glove-wearing season," he said softly, and kissed Kurt's forehead before they made their way into the elevator.

Four floors later, they were home. Romeo came running up to them as Blaine hung his jacket on the rack by the door. He picked his dog up and gave him a cuddle, inhaling deeply as Romeo licked his face with his pink tongue. Blaine had been burying his face in his puppy dog's fur a lot lately – it reminded him of how compassionate his childhood dog Sport was, and what a comfort he brought in troubled times. Romeo whined to get down and Blaine set him on the floor, letting him run to Kurt, who picked him up and walked toward what used to be the nursery.

 

Blaine followed him.

 

The only thing left in the room suggesting what its intended purpose used to be was the lavender paint on the walls. Everything else was gone, packed away, carted off. Alex had come to haul away the glider while they were gone that morning. The room was empty, devoid of everything. Even the ghosts of Violet's memory seemed to have slipped away.

 

Slowly Blaine curled his hand into Kurt's, watching the sun shine on his husband's face, casting light and shadows on its planes.

 

They stood and stared for a very, very long time.

 

And then Blaine watched as Kurt took a breath and set Romeo down on the floor. "I'll be right back," he whispered, and Blaine assumed it was so he wouldn't break the reverent silence that hung in the room.

 

He came back with the fan of sample paint chips that they'd used to pick the shade of lavender for the nursery.

 

Blaine looked at it, then looked at the walls, then looked at Kurt's face. He looked calm, but his nose was still red from earlier. Blaine wanted to kiss it.

 

Kurt held up the fan. "I need an office. Still. Maybe even more now, with the promotion." He paused, his entire face a question.

 

"Yes," Blaine agreed. "I think you do."

 

"How do you feel about green?"

 

"Well, it might depend on the shade, but my initial reaction? I feel yes. Isn't green supposed to be a really Zen color or something?"

 

"It is," Kurt said, nodding slowly, flipping through the fan to several swatches of light and medium greens, and began holding them up to the wall. "This would look fantastic in the morning light, don't you think?" he asked, pointing to one.

 

Blaine cocked his head, thinking, picturing Kurt bent over a work desk, his hair highlighted by sunbeams streaming through the window, his sketching hand working tirelessly over a page. "I really think it would."

 

Kurt must've read something in Blaine's expression, because he reached out and grabbed Blaine's hand, his voice carrying a little pleading tone as he said, "Hey. We're okay, right?"

 

A little half-smile crossed Blaine's face as he marveled over the past several months, what they'd endured, what they'd fought through. Mostly they were better than okay, sometimes okay was a stretch, but _okay_ wasn't really the point at all. _Okay_ didn't pull them out of hell still in one piece.

 

"It is ridiculous how much I love you."

 

"Oh, _Blaine_ –" Kurt dropped the fan of paint swatches and slipped into Blaine's embrace. "I'm ridiculously in love with you, too."

 

"Well thank god for that," Blaine said, pressing a tender kiss to Kurt's cheek. "Come on, let's go to Benjamin Moore and get some samples – I can hear the paint rollers in the closet. They're _begging_ to be used."

 

"Ridiculously. In love. With you," Kurt said in reply, punctuating every phrase with a kiss, and yes, they were _definitely_ going to be okay.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this story is coming to an end. It has been such a huge process, heart-wrenching at times. I poured myself into it and I can't believe everything I've been reaping from it since. Thank you so much to everyone who's read it, who's stuck with me through over a month of posting, who's wept and wailed and gotten mad and then jumped and rejoiced with me. Thank you for reading it, thank you for loving it. 
> 
> Huuuuuge thank you to Lokicorey, who was the first person EVER to make me fic!art, who made the amazing and incredible trailer that goes along with this story (which I have watched like ten billion times until my husband is WEARY of it, I'm sure.) You made me feel so, so special, and I love that you love my fic enough to make art for it!!
> 
> And, last but absolutely not least, a very, very SPECIAL thanks to my betas:
> 
> To Wowbright:  
> Thank you, from the very, very bottom of my heart, for answering my "who wants to beta this really freaking long rewrite?" post. This (much, much, much better) version of the fic would never have been birthed without you coming on board from the beginning. Thank you for asking me the tough questions, thank you for pushing me, thank you for never letting me throw this fic out the window. Thank you for the squees and the laughter and the consistent encouragement to do better, be better, for believing in this fic and the work I've put into it. You are a magnificent beta and a wonderful friend who I treasure. I love you.
> 
> And to Judearaya:  
> I am so, so glad that Wow brought us together. You've become a true friend to me and I am so thankful for you and your heart and your everything :) Thank you for reading through this whole thing - TWICE - and for squealing and pointing out spelling errors and porn problems (that goes there HOW?) and for the work and love that you put in. I'm sorry I emotionally traumatized you the first time around ;) You have given me endless amounts of encouragement and love, and I am truly grateful to and for you. I love you.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this last chapter, and fear not: I'm halfway through writing the sequel, so there will be more of our boys soon!


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